


The Prehistoric Poltergeist Turnabout

by TurnaboutTerror



Category: Sherlock (TV), 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney
Genre: Case Fic, Complete, Gyakuten Saiban 6 | Spirit of Justice Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-04-18 01:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 62,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14201637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnaboutTerror/pseuds/TurnaboutTerror
Summary: While abroad for a new case, John Watson finds himself accused of the murder of his former colleague, Doctor Archie Olgist. With the evidence against him mounting by the second, no lawyer will take Dr. Watson as a client. Sherlock Holmes finally finds one law firm so desperate for clientele, they'd never refuse an offer -- The Wright Anything Agency.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All chapters posted! This fic is complete. I may write an afterward, if there's any interest in such a thing.
> 
> Still some additional typos and formatting errors to clean up.

#### MEADOW MUSEUM

#### MARCH 2ND, 10:19 PM

“Sherlock? Sherlock!”

John Watson paced through the dark halls of the Meadow Museum. Only his own voice answered, as it echoed back against the walls. At the end of a long marble hallway John caught a glimpse of a human figure, leaning against a tall statue at least twice their size. In the dark, he couldn’t make out the full form of either.

John gazed around the hall once more. “Sherlock?” Nothing but white walls. Behind him, a trail of blood, red dots scattered across black-and-white marble floors. It almost sent John into a panic, until he looked down a realized the blood trial belonged to him. His tan slacks were ripped on the right leg. Blood flowed freely. Right now, adrenaline masked the pain, a result of his brain sending signals to flood his body with epinephrine and norepinephrine. 

He wasn’t looking forward to when that wore off.

For now, John ignored his cut leg. Leaving a trail behind him was not ideal; he would be very easy to track. Fortunately, it didn’t seem there was anyone around who cared to track him. He took some comfort he was trailing dots and not a solid streak. His blood was already clotting. The wound had to be superficial. No doubt he’d cut himself during his dubious entry through a shattered window.

John continued down the hall towards the figure. He drew his firearm and held it both hands, just in case. Whoever was at the end of the hall hadn’t moved.

John thought about how long his body had been in a state of hyperarousal, trying to estimate how long he had before he felt pain. In truth, his body probably entered this state twice -- when he arrived at the museum, and when he received the text that brought him here.

**Come here. Hurry. - S.H.**

**Bring Gun. - S.H.**

Holmes and his bloody vague texts. A Holmes text could mean anything. Bring gun could mean “I’m in immediate danger, save me.” It could mean, “I believe danger may be present, and I desire a gun be nearby.” Or it could mean, “I happen to need a paperweight and your gun will do quite well.”

But, because the first option was even remotely possible, John flew into a panic. 

John entered into an open chamber, with multiple entrances and exits. Moonlight poured in from a skylight above, and the amber glow of streetlights spilled through windows on the far right walls.

The "Statue" was no statue at all -- it was a fossil. A massive Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton loomed over Watson as he moved closer to the figure, still looming underneath. A staircase to the left hugged the wall, turned right around the statue, and led to an observation platform above on the opposite side of the room. 

Footsteps. Somewhere in the distance, upstairs. “Sherlock?”

John moved closer to the figure beneath the watchful prehistoric beast. As he approached, he recognized who it was immediately. Doctor Olgist, the very person they’d come to the states to see. He was hunched over beneath the statue, hiding from something, head hanging low.

“Doctor! Doctor? Are you--”

The footsteps came to a stop. John turned his eyes past the statue, to the observation deck above.

A figure in the shadows raised their hand. A metallic object reflected starlight.

A gun.

Instinct took over. John raised his pistol, aimed, and -- 

“John!" Sherlock's voice, somewhere in the darkness. "Do _NOT_ move! Stay right there!”

John squeezed his trigger. A loud, metallic creak emanated through the halls. Then a sudden snap.

The Tyrannosaurus towering over John shuddered. The Skeleton tilted and swung, as if coming to life. Its head lurched forward, and the structure could no longer hold.

A cascade of bones rained upon him. 

Gunshots rang out. The world went dark.


	2. Investigation, Day 1 - Enter Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's another typical, clientless day at the Wright Anything Agency when Sherlock Holmes enters. What brings him to Phoenix and Athena? What happened to John Watson? And will Athena ever recover from seeing Sherlock's piercing eyes in person?

#### WRIGHT ANYTHING AGENCY

#### MARCH 3RD, 9:43 AM

Phoenix gazed into his open desk drawer to find a white rabbit staring back. White, furry, hind legs sprawled out across old case files as she relaxed comfortably, unphased by the abrupt slide of her bed.

This was not a surprising occurrence, nor was the rabbit itself surprising. Wright knew the rabbit quite well. Her name was Equivoque (or Equi for short) and belonged to his daughter, Trucy. Wright thought of her as “equity,” though Equi here provided little of that on her own four furry feet, and the Wright Anything Agency could always use much, much more equity.

“If you keep showing up in there, I’ll start charging rent,” Wright said as he pulled the rabbit up by the scruff of her neck. Equi objected to the loss of her squatting rights with a few nose wiggles.

Wright scanned the office for signs of life, but only spotted the usual clutter - Spare top hats, playing cards, a mini-guillotine model, a plate of plastic spaghetti designed to look like the serving fork floated in the air. Apollo’s old jacket sat draped over the couch, where it’d been for years now. _At one time, I’m sure this place resembled a law office,_ thought Wright, as he realized how much space he’d sacrificed to his daughter’s magic career.

The only thing that really belonged to him in the office now was his plant, Charley, a ficus as old as his career. Older, even. He inherited it from his mentor, along with the office.

A wiggling rabbit snapped Wright back to reality. Feet thumped against his chest. Equi had remained docile long enough; she’d reached the limits of her patience.

“Hey, Athena,” Wright called out, “You around?”

The door to the office swung open, nearly taking Charley out. Athena burst through with one hand on the doorknob and the other stabilizing a black top hat on her head. “Here boss! What’dja nee --” Her eyes went as wide as her smile once she spotted the writhing rabbit in Wright’s clutches. “Awww, you found Equi! Look at her. Just a bunnyball of love!”

“Ye-yeah,” said Wright, as Equi protested with kicking feet. “She’s a ball of something, all right. Why don’t you take all this love off my hands.”

“You got it! _Vieni qui,_ Equi!” Athena reached out and grabbed Equi by the scruff of her neck, then drew the ball of fluff towards her chest and draped Equi over her shoulder. The rabbit rested her head and ceased squirming, aside from a few butt wiggles to get more comfortable in Athena's arms. Athena rewarded her compliance with two strokes on the head. “Got ya now, cutie! I can’t _believe_ this is what I get paid to do at work.”

“For now,” said Wright. _It’s been too long since we had a client. Soon she won’t even remember she’s a lawyer._ He didn’t bother asking about the top hat - since Apollo’s departure, It’d become Athena’s unofficial job to act as Trucy’s magician’s assistant when they had no cases, which, right now, was often.

Too often.

Equi nestled further up Athena’s shoulder. “Excited about Sue tonight, Mr. Wright?”

Wright blinked. “Who’s Sue? A client?”

“Whaaat? _Mein Gott,_ boss! I need to teach you how to put appointments in your phone.”

Wright’s phone was circa 2001. The only thing you could put in it was phone numbers, which, as far as Wright was concerned, was all a phone needed to do.

Athena set her top hat on the desk and grabbed the previous day's paper with one hand, as her other arm continued to cradle Equi. Athena flipped the paper open. After much fussing about with her index and ring fingers between pages, she found what she was looking for and thrust it into Wright’s face. The article read:

##### MEADOW MUSEUM UNVEILS WORLD’S MOST COMPLETE T-REX, SUE

> _Discovered by renowned anthropologist Dana Stapes, The world’s finest Tyrannosaurus Rex specimen will be unveiled tonight. Sue was inadvertently discovered during an expedition to recover ancient potteries…_

 

Athena wiggled the page, making it hard to read. “The new exhibit at the museum! Remember? Sue!”

Wright vaguely remembered Trucy and Athena having a conversation about Sue during a local news segment one afternoon, but certainly didn’t remember any decisions being made to attend an opening gala. At least, not any he’d been made aware of.

Maybe he should’ve paid more attention to that conversation.

“I already picked up tickets for everyone - except you, Equi. Sorry!” Equi didn’t care about being left out, and certainly didn’t care about seeing the world's most complete Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton discovered to date. In the past five minutes, she’d been disturbed from her nap and passed around like a potato. She wanted water, food, and a place to run. In that order. And maybe a few more strokes on the head.

Wright used the back of his hand to scoot the newspaper aside and made eye contact with Athena once more. “Why don’t you go return our furry friend now? Trucy’s bound to need her for a trick.”

“You got it, boss!” Athena dropped the paper on Wright's desk so she could give Equi her full attention. She held the rabbit up, staring into its eyes, studying her. Equi dangled in the air with remarkable steadfastness. “Hey, do you think Rabbits and T-Rex’s are related?”

“I really doubt it, Athena.” _Great, now she’s considering a career change to archeologist. We really need a case._

“I’ll ask our tour guide tonight.” Athena lifted Equi by her scruff and tapped her nose. “I’ll get to the bottom of this Jurassic mystery, Equi.”

“Cretaceous,” said an unmistakably British voice from the office door. Wright looked up from the paper to see a man in a tall coat, with a stern look, dark hair, and piercing eyes. As he stepped into the room his eyes darted around, taking every individual detail in. In fact, as he spoke, his eyes seemed to travel anywhere where they wouldn’t have to see another person. “And I’m afraid seeing Sue will be difficult - though I suppose if you don’t mind seeing her pieces individually...”

Wright blinked, unsure if this was a client, or someone who just happened to be walking by and felt a need to correct his employee. Wright couldn’t tell if he was bothered by the scattered decor, but felt the need to apologize anyway. “You’ll have to forgive the decor, it’s - "

The mysterious man didn’t wait for Wright to finish talking. “Your daughter’s props I’m sure, Trucy Wright, a child magician you adopted at the age of eight who turned your practice into an Agency, a suggestion you accepted due to a deep depression after the loss of your attorney’s badge. Her biological father vanished during his own trial, which, having read transcripts of his defense, you ought to be thankful for. Not that you need me to tell you - lost your badge for presenting forged evidence, and perhaps you should’ve lost it anyway. Dreadful showing.”

“After that, the two of you made your livelihood off an illicit poker game, pulling trick after trick until a young Apollo Justice showed up in your life and proved your innocence, thus allowing you, by _some_ miracle, to practice law once more. Mister Justice has since opened his own firm in the kingdom of Khura’in where he presently resides, rebuilding their tattered legal system - He was my first choice, but as he is unavailable, I now find myself here.”

Athena hadn’t said a word since she spied the man. Even now, she stared agape in his direction as he spoke. Wright was fairly certain she hadn't processed a single word he'd said.

 _Who is this guy?_ Whoever he was, he’d done far more research than the usual client. Wright tried to find out once more. “I, ah, didn't catch your na-”

He didn’t get very far.

The stranger wagged a finger in Athena’s direction. “Aaaaah, and _this_. Athena Cykes, who you hired based on a controversial dissertation. Currently holds the record for youngest individual to pass the bar at the age of eighteen, because god knows your firm - apologies, _Agency_ \- doesn’t hire anyone over the age of twenty. Invented a psychological matrix to assist in court, wrote a thesis on the use of therapeutic psychology in courtroom proceedings which I could not disagree with more, and the irritating gadget around your neck is named Widget.”

The room went quiet. Wright waited to find out if there was more.

There was.

The Stranger's deep blue eyes locked with his. “And you. You are Phoenix Wright, also known as Nick. Phoenix, no doubt derived from your ability to find victory despite oh-so-many failures on your way there. Stop me when I’m wrong, but don’t, because I’m not.”

Athena uttered two whole words before returning to silence. “Are you - “

He didn’t even grant her a glance - His eyes remained focused on Wright .“Phonetically, the nickname plays into your ego as well.”

Wright blinked. “My ego,” he repeated.

“Yes. ‘See, Nick’s Right.’ Repeat it to yourself a few times fast, you’ll hear it.”

Wright scratched his head. _Please, please let him answer this time._ “You seem to know a lot about our Agency, but I’m afraid I know nothing about you, Mister…?”

The Stranger glanced at Athena, still appeared paralyzed in place. “Well, you may not. She does. Yes, I am who you think. Now please, reseat your jaw.”

“Oh. _Mein. Gott!_ Sherlock Holmes! I knew it!” Athena jumped in place, cradling Equi as she bounced.

“Athena, you know him?”

Athena’s shoulders slumped. Her head bobbed down with half-drooped eyelids, filled with knowing disappointment. If it weren’t for Equi keeping her hands busy, she’d be using them to convey her shock - or lack thereof. “Seriously boss? Have you not read John Watson’s Blog?”

“That infernal blog,” muttered Sherlock under his breath.

 _Who’s John Watson and why would I read his blog?_ “I guess not,” Wright said.

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“Who, John Watson?” Asked Wright.

Sherlock chuckled to himself.

Athena continued.“What? No! Sherlock Holmes! Scotland Yard has him on speed dial! Why, he and Watson - wait, where is Watson? Is he here?” Athena craned her head towards the door, perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever Watson was. Equi squirmed as her upper body twisted.

“Athena, please. Go return Equi. She’s suffered enough.”

“Okay, but I’m coming back! It’s not every day Sherlock Holmes is in our office. C’mon Equi, we gotta make this quick!” Athena darted down the hall.

 _That poor rabbit is going to get whiplash. If only I could represent it in Lagomorph court._ Wright stood up to greet Sherlock, extending his hand. “It seems you’re famous in my office.”

Holmes stared at Wright’s hand. Wright realized he wouldn’t get a handshake and let his hand drop back to his side. No longer distracted by the hand, Holmes continued. “Famous other places too. It’s John’s fault, which is, in fact, why I’m here.”

“What, your fame?”

“No, John. John is why I’m here. It’s… complicated.” Holmes held up his arm and flicked back his coat’s sleeve, glancing at his watch. “10:02 AM, top of the hour, morning news will be resetting the block -” Holmes darted to the couch and fished around under the red coat. “ Here, this will be faster.” He produced a remote and flipped the TV on.

“Huh. We’ve been looking for that for days.”

“Yes, I noticed. Every object in this room has been recently moved with the exception of the plant by the door, and this red coat. Therefore, they were the only two places you haven’t looked, and, while I often anticipate the average human to be preternaturally moronic, I doubted you were foolish enough to leave the remote in a plant, ergo -”

Holmes flipped to a news station. A newscaster in a red dress stared at the screen. A small box in the top left had a picture of Sue from the T-Rex waist up, in all her skeletal splendor. News anchors recapped the story as the lower chyron faded into view.

 

##### MURDER AT THE MEADOW

> _“-Charged with the murder of Doctor Archie Olgist is renowned Doctor, Investigator, and Blogger John Watson, known for his documentation of strange and unusual cases with Freelance Detective Sherlock Holmes. Both were present at the scene, but at this time, the police have only taken Dr. Watson for -"_

 

Holmes shut the TV off, then tossed the remote back onto the couch. “So you see, I’ve come to enlist your services.The police in your godforsaken country won’t listen when I tell them they have the wrong man, and as I lack the proper credentials, I cannot represent him in your courts. I find myself required to enlist the services of a barrister and I have chosen you, Mister Wright, to help me prove John’s innocence.”

“I see. And why did they suspect your friend of murder?”

“We had a meeting scheduled with Dr. Olgist that night. This is the easiest case you will ever take, I promise you. The evidence against John is entirely circumstantial.”

 _Judging from how Athena reacted, I’d be crazy to turn him down. And it's not like we’re swamped for work._ “Mister Holmes, I’ll take your case. I’d like to meet with John as soon as possible, of course.” Wright grabbed his briefcase and notepad from the bottom drawer.

“Yes, of course.”

“Get the facts, hear what happened.” Wright tossed a few pencils and pens into the side pouch.

Sherlock bobbed up and down in place, as if testing his legs before a sprint. “I have the facts already, but yes, you must talk to John. Soon. Very soon. Quite soon, in fact.”

“How long do we have to prepare his case?” Wright snapped the clasps on his case shut.

Holmes checked his watch. “Approximately two hours.”

Wright’s hands came to a dead stop on top of his briefcase. All bodily functions seemed to cease in place as his brain struggled to process this new information. “Hours.”

“Yes, hours. His trial is scheduled for 11:00 AM in courtroom 2.” Sherlock paused. "Ah, I should clarify. 11:00 AM today."

“Eleve-” Wright took a deep breath before finishing the word. If he turned his thinking around, and included all his other cases for context, three hours was actually a remarkably long time to prepare. He'd once tried a case mid-amnesia, after all. “ Okay.” Wright removed his hands from the metal clasps on his case. “We need to get to the detention center, now.”

“I trust you're a good runner, Mr. Wright?”

 _A little out of practice, but..._ “No way around it - let's get running.” Wright dashed out from behind his desk, concerned about the type of clientele his agency seemed to endlessly attract like moths to a flame.

Athena arrived at the door as Holmes and Wright flew past. “Boss, where are you -”

“Meeting our client,” Said Phoenix as the dashed down the hall. He looked back. “No, you can’t come!”

“Awww, boss!”

“No awws! Go check out the Meadow Museum! We’ll meet at the courthouse after!”

“Why the museum!?”

Sherlock was already out the door and down the street. Phoenix took a moment to shout back before following. “Murder scene!”

“Got it!”

Wright glanced back to see Athena flashing a victory sign in his direction as he shut the door and followed Sherlock's flowing coat.


	3. Investigation, Day 1 - Meeting John Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phoenix Wright meets his new client, Dr. John Watson, and learns his new case may not be the Slam Dunk Sherlock said it would be.

#### DETENTION CENTER

#### MARCH 3RD, 10:32 AM

Holmes paced as they waited for John to arrive. Wright sat patiently, staring at the empty chair on the other side, hoping this John Watson would be a great deal saner than his friend.

“Sherlock, you really should si-”

“John is in there right _now_ , saying something foolish. I know it.”

_You should let people finish their sentences,_ Wright thought. His hand dropped into his pocket, feeling around for the Magatama Maya had given him years ago. The rounded jade base was smooth to the touch. He’d soon know if John Watson was truly innocent.

The door opened. A short, blonde man appeared, wearing a tan sweater and Jeans with a sizeable tear through the right leg. There was a white bandage wrapped around his forehead, no doubt a sign he’d suffered a contusion of some kind. Despite the circumstances, he carried his head high and walked with purpose. He took several deliberate steps and sat in the chair across from Wright.

Holmes lurched forward and spoke into the receiver. “What idiotic things did you divulge, John?”

“What, since last night? Ah, nothing, nothing. We had a pleasant chat, Sherlock, about headaches and the importance of Ibuprofen in every household. And, um, how I could use some, if they’d be so accommodating.” Watson wasn't joking. Now that he was closer, Wright could see how bloodshot his eyes were, and the dark bags under his eyes. 

“And have they been?”

“No. Certainly not. Though they did let me keep my civilian clothes on for now.” John’s attention turned to Wright. “Now, who’s this then?”

“Your Lawyer, Nicholas Wright.”

John blinked twice. “You-you told me no one would take my case and - and to resign myself to a public defender.”

“I did."

“What changed?”

Sherlock leaned in even closer to the glass, eyes wide with excitement. “I found a law firm so desperate they would never turn away a client, even for a case hopeless as yours.”

John said nothing at first. He tilted his head in Wright's direction and bobbed twice. Whatever message he was trying to send, Sherlock wasn't picking up. “Um, Holmes? Perhaps not right in front of -"

Sherlock glanced at Wright. Then looked back at John. “Too much?”

“A bit, yeah.” As Sherlock backed away from the glass, John leaned forward, giving Wright his full attention. “Hello, Mister Wright.”

“Doctor John Watson, I presume. Now, hopeless?” Wright said out loud, hoping he’d misheard. “Please tell me he’s exaggerating.”

Watson’s eyes darted aside, avoiding eye contact. He rubbed the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger. “I’m afraid while Holmes was searching for a barrister, the word hopeless came up… a bit. Quite a bit, in fact.”

_Great._ “Why’s that?”

As they spoke, Holmes began to study other aspects of the room. The shuffling of his feet was a distraction at first, but Wright soon tuned it out, and found himself concerned with how quickly he seemed to adapt to Sherlock's unconventional behavior.

After the brief distraction, Watson continued. “The police believe I shot Olgist with my service pistol.”

_It wouldn’t be the first time a third party framed a fall guy_ , Wright thought, remembering a number of cases where ballistics had mislead the entire court. “And why do they believe that?”

“Well, ah, the… the bullet still in his body matches the caliber of my Browning,” said Watson.

Wright turned around in his chair to face Sherlock, now studying the security cameras in the corner of the room. “I thought you said the evidence was circumstantial?”

Holmes spun about, and stared at Wright as though he’d asked why the sun hurt to look at. “I _know_ John is innocent, ergo, the evidence _must_ be circumstantial.”

Wright’s hands covered his face. _That’s why he turned the TV off so suddenly. He didn’t want me to hear the damning details of the case._ He let his hands slide away. “Did they take anything from you as evidence?”

“Just my mobile. We had an appointment to meet Dr. Olgist, you see. It was in my mobile calendar.”

“And did you keep that appointment?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Sherlock arrived before me, but as I approached Olgist last night, I saw someone else on the second-floor landing above.”

“What happened?”

“He had a gun. I drew on him, fired, and then... “ Watson gave an exasperated sigh. His right hand flicked into the air, his fingertips pointed up towards his head, as if to say his memory was empty as the air. “That’s when I took a blow to the back of the head. When I awoke, Olgist and I were covered in Sue.”

Wright paused. “Sue? Like - “

Holmes clarified from the back of the room. “The Fossil your assistant was so eager to see. Someone brought her down right on top of them, rendering Watson unconcious.”

“Everything after that is a blur,” Watson said, a hand loosely motioning to the bandage about his forehead. “So, if after hearing that, ah, you’d like to bow out, I’ll… well, I’d understand, Mister Wright.”

Wright gripped the Magatama in his pocket. If John Watson had been lying at any point, it would’ve reacted by now. “I’ll take your case, Doctor Watson.”

“Excellent!” John clapped his hands. “Wonderful! What’s our plan then? Our - our legal defense? Our real one?” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

Wright stood up. “Right now? Buy time to prepare a better defense.Today in court, all we need to do is prove the possibility of another shooter. My Colleague is at the crime scene now, finding out what she can. Once we’ve bought ourselves another day, we’ll investigate the crime scene tonight more thoroughly and gather information.”

“Right, okay. I’ll just uh - “ John began to stand up, but a thought caused him to stop midway. “Wait, hold on. You’re expected to gather evidence? On your own?”

Wright’s eyes darted left and right, confused as to why he was being asked about a system for evidence he’d lived his entire life. “Y-yeah? Is it... different in London?”

“Told you John, their legal system is rubbish,” said Holmes as he studied the hardware on the detention center visitor door. “Just wait until you see their court proceedings. Rhetoric and sophistry, _sometimes_  featuring evidence, if someone can be bothered.”

“Sorry about him, he’s -” John shrugged. “Across the pond, Scotland Yard trusts him more than themselves. He’s… not used to being dismissed. Now he has to do something he truly detests.”

“What’s that?”

“Rely on others.” John smiled and rapped his knuckles twice on the glass. “Like you. See you in a few hours, Mister Wright, on the other side of the glass.”

The bailiff opened the door for Doctor Watson, and he soon departed back into the detention center. Wright turned to leave out the visitor door, to find Holmes opening and closing it methodically. “What were you doing that whole time?” 

“In the event of a guilty verdict, I’ve prepared a plan of escape. Camera’s are old CCTV models, easy to disable. Hard part will be the door hardware, but if you and John keep the bailiffs entertained, I could remove it without making a sound. Then we shatter - “

“Stop.” Said Wright, who could feel all the blood leaving his face. “Everything you’re telling me,  _please_ stop.”

“But the plan requires - "

“Holmes. Plausible deniability.”

Holmes stared past Wright as he contemplated the term. “Understood,” he eventually said. “Now, let's see if you can fail your way to victory once again, Mister Wright.”

_Why couldn’t Watson be on my side of the glass,_ thought Wright, as he imagined what it was going to be like to spend an entire day in court with Sherlock Holmes as co-counsel.


	4. Trial, Day 1 - Pre-Trial Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trial of the century begins in mere minutes. Sherlock and Wright wait anxiously to find out what evidence Athena scrounged up at the crime scene.

#### DISTRICT COURTROOM NO. 2

#### LOBBY

#### MARCH 3RD, 10:53 AM

“What is this paltry collection of parchment?” said Holmes as he sifted through Wright’s briefcase.

“It’s my court record.”

Holmes flipped the case upside down and shook it. A notepad with the Steel Samurai logo on the front cover flopped on the floor. “Your court record consists entirely of a single piece of childhood memorabilia.” Holmes picked up the notepad and wiggled it in his hand. “Eureka, John’s saved.”

 _Maybe if someone had notified me sooner than two hours before the trial, our case would be stronger,_ Wright thought to himself as he stared at the door, praying for a miracle. _Come on, Athena. Where are you?_

Behind him, he heard pages flip as Holmes opened the notepad. “Why in God’s name would any lawyer write, ‘my badge’ under their evidence list?”

“You’d be surprised how often it comes in handy.“

Swift footsteps approached the door. Athena burst into the room, pushing past a wall of reporters bombarding her with so many questions at once, their voices were indecipherable. She slammed the door shut as she entered, silencing their questions. “I’m here! I’m here! And you should _see_ the crowd outside. I can’t believe it! Somehow we’re at the center of the trial of the century!”

Wright glanced back at Holmes, who was still flipping through the notepad, examining evidence lists from previous cases. “Just how famous _are_ you?” asked Wright.

“Again, John’s fault. May I see your mobile?”

Wright fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to him. Holmes continued to fiddle with both the pad and phone as Wright turned his attention to Athena. “Please tell me you found something useful.”

Athena’s smile drooped. Her arms came up as her two pointer fingers tapped together. “ _Nein_ Boss. They, um, wouldn’t let me in. Forensics is still combing the place.”

Still? Hmm." Wright placed a thumb on his chin. "That could be a good sign - if Forensics is actively working the scene, there must still be evidence to find."

Athena didn't look relieved. “So... we're defending Watson today with nothing? No evidence at all?”

“That’s not true,” said Sherlock, tapping away on Wright’s phone. “We have your badge, and this notepad.”

 _Please, please tell me he isn’t burning through my data plan._ The door opened again, revealing a face Wright knew very well. His childhood friend and the district's Chief Prosecutor, Miles Edgeworth.

Edgeworth’s eyebrows raised as he spotted Wright in the waiting room. He pushed up his glasses with a single finger. Behind him two bailiffs entered, escorting Wright’s defendant, John Watson.

Edgeworth made five quick strides across the room. He began speaking before his feet even came to a stop. “Wright, have you _seriously_ been foolhardy enough to take this case?”

“What, me?” Wright exclaimed. “What’s the Chief Prosecutor doing here? Shouldn’t one of your colorful employees be prosecuting?”

“Surely you jest.” Edgeworth crossed his arms, his right pointer finger tapping impatiently as it came to a rest. “We’re pressing charges against _John Watson_ , Wright, not the usual endless parade of loons that barge into your office. No one other than the Chief Prosecutor could, ah… prosecute...” Edgeworth trailed off as he read something in Wright’s expression. He leaned back in shock, his glasses shuddering askew. _“No.”_

Wright didn’t often regret his technological inferiority, but he was starting to wonder if, in this particular instance, he ought to make an effort to find out what blog his client was known for.

“Wright… you have _no idea_ who you’re representing, do you?” Edgeworth turned his attention to Athena and straightened his glasses. “Ms. Cykes, do teach your employer how to navigate a search engine.”

Athena pounded a fist into her hand. “You heard him, Boss. We gotta work on your Google-Fu.”

“Here you are,” Holmes said, as he slid Wright’s phone back into the pocket it came from.

 _My google needs no fu, thank you._ Behind Edgeworth, Wright could see John Watson, standing tall between the bailiffs. “His fame doesn’t matter, Edgeworth. Just his innocence. I believe in my client, no matter what.”

Edgeworth tilted his head and smirked. “If you prove John Watson innocent despite our decisive evidence, the world will celebrate your success. For once, even _I_ may rejoice in enduring another loss at your hands.”

“Then why prosecute the case at all?”

“Because unlike you, I cannot deny facts in place of hope, Wright. You will see the harsh reality in court - the evidence shows no one other than John Watson had the opportunity to take Doctor Olgist’s life.”

The courthouse doors opened. John Watson, now released from the careful watch of the Bailiffs, joined Wright at his side. “So, um. Here we go then.”

Athena nudged Wright in the back and whispered into his ear. “He’s putting on a brave face, Boss, but I can feel his anxiety from here. Say something encouraging.”

 _Really? He seems fine to me, but... I trust her instinct._ “Hey, don’t worry,” said Wright. “This won’t be the first time I’ve tried a case with no evidence.”

“I’ve seen court transcripts,” said Holmes. “He speaks true.”

“Well. Win or lose, this will be one big day for the blog,” Watson said as he stepped into the Courtroom.


	5. Trial, Day 1 - The Trial of the Century Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trial of John Watson begins! But with no evidence and no alternative suspect, what defense can Wright possibly mount against Edgeworth's oppressive mountain of evidence?

#### DAY 1

#### COURT IS IN SESSION

Wright took his position at the defense’s bench, Holmes by his right side and Athena to his left. _This is the most crowded my bench has been in a while._ The Bailiffs escorted Watson to the defendant’s stand, to the right of the judge himself.

The bearded judge pounded his gavel. “Court is now in session for the trial of… Oh my!” The Judge took a moment to recover from his surprise. “Am I reading this correctly? Dr. John Watson?’

Edgeworth, now in position at the prosecutor’s bench, nodded. “I’m afraid so, your honor.”

“A shame, truly. My granddaughter loves his blog.”

 _Should your granddaughter really be reading a blog about murder cases?_ Wright learned long ago to keep his thoughts to himself in court.

“Is the defense prepared?”

“Your honor, the defense is - “

Holmes suddenly burst forward from the bench. Wright and Athena shared curious glances as Holmes strode into the center of the Courtroom, but Athena merely offered a shrug in response.

“Your honor, I shall now prove John Watson’s innocence,” Holmes said as he stomped across the room and held out a hand in Edgeworth’s direction. Miles glanced down at the open palm, then crossed his arms and stared Holmes in the face with a smirk. Whatever Holmes wanted Edgeworth to hand over, it was clear he wasn't getting it.

“Present your evidence, if you would,” said Holmes. “I know how this works, Prosecutor. I know you have it, we both know during the course of these proceedings, you’ll be forced to _present it_ , so now, if you would perhaps agree to eliminate the pomp and circumstance…” Sherlock waved his hand in a circle, palm still open.

Edgeworth responded with only a smile and a shrug, unwavering. “I’m afraid I am under no obligation to do so.”

Athena slumped over the desk. “This is an... unconventional approach.”

Wright had both hands on his forehead, trying desperately to control his breathing and think of a way to recover. Usually it took a few hours before a case began to fly apart, but Holmes found a way to speed up the process. “Sh-Sherlock! what are you doing? Get back here!”

“Mister Wright, I needed your services to get inside the courtroom. Now that I am here, I can prove John’s innocence if the prosecution would simply Present. Their. _Evidence!_ ”

The galley began speaking amongst themselves in hushed whispers until the Judge’s gavel banged thrice. Its power echoed through the courtroom, and Wright thought for sure he’d be facing a penalty before the case even began.

Once the Judge had control again, he turned his attention to Sherlock for a thorough scolding. “Sherlock Holmes! Your fame does _not_ give you license to ignore procedure! If you do not return to the bench and allow your attorney to do their job, I will hold you in contempt of court! Is that understood?”

Holmes paused in the center of the courtroom. His eyes explored the galley, slowly, then darted to the entrance.

The gavel dropped twice more. _bang bang._ “Mister Holmes!”

“Yes yes, to the bench, I -“ Holmes dropped off mid-sentence and quickly made his way back to Wright’s side. “This will be… more challenging than I anticipated,” Holmes muttered as he came to a stop.

_For you and me both._

The judge continued. “Now, let us try this again - and this time, only the defense may answer. Is the _defense_ ready?”

Wright nodded, doing his best to project confidence despite his rattled nerves. “Y-yes, your honor.”

“Is the prosecution ready?”

Edgeworth smiled. “The prosecution has been ready for a while, your honor. Unlike the defense, it would seem.”

 _Salt on the wounds, Miles, salt on the wounds._ Wright could feel himself sweating in ways he hadn’t since his first year practicing law.

The Judge nodded. “Very well, let us begin with the facts of the case.”

Edgeworth lifted a piece of paper from his bench and reviewed his notes as he spoke. “Of course, your honor. The victim is one Dr. Archie Olgist, an old acquaintance of the accused. He was shot last night around 10:00 P.M in the Meadow Museum, directly in front of the newly assembled Tyrannosaurus Rex, Sue. During the altercation, Sue collapsed, rendering John Watson unconscious and unable to flee the scene of the crime. ” Edgeworth extended an arm and wagged his finger. “Wright, I know you are hard-pressed for witnesses to cross-examine, but do try to refrain from calling a fossil to testify.”

A few light chuckles emanated from the gallery. _Thanks again, Miles._ It died out before the Judge needed to use his gavel.

Once he felt he’d paused long enough for his audience to enjoy the joke, Edgeworth continued. “I will now submit an autopsy report and a photo of the crime scene to the court.”

##### SUBMITTED INTO EVIDENCE - Autopsy Report, Crime Scene Photo 1.

Wright examined both items as soon as they arrived at his bench, eager to finally touch actual evidence.

The autopsy report was short and succinct. Dr. Olgist died from a gunshot wound to the chest. Despite Edgeworth’s claim, time of death was listed as inconclusive in the report. _Hmmm… Edgeworth must have established time of death from another source and not the coroner._ The bullet extracted from his body was a 9mm, the same as Dr. Watson’s service pistol. The body also showed signs of posthumous bruising, likely from the bones cascading on him as the fossil collapsed. The bruising was mostly contained to his waist and wrists.

In the photo, both Dr. Olgist and Dr. Watson were laid out on the floor, Sue’s bones strewn around the room. Olgist was face down, with what looked like several large ribs and femurs scattered across his body. Watson, meanwhile, was slumped against the crook of a nearby staircase - with his service pistol still in hand. There were bones around Watson, but none rested directly on him.

_Well, this isn’t a great look for us._

Athena flicked her moon-shaped earring. “Um, boss? Do you feel like we’re losing this case faster than usual?”

“Athena, please. Keep it to yourself for now.”

Edgeworth smirked and extended his hands. “If it pleases your honor, the prosecution would like to call Forensic Detective Ema Skye to the stand. She will elaborate on how we concluded Dr. Watson to be our only culprit.”

“There’s more?” exclaimed the Judge. “This photo alone is quite incriminating.”

“Objection!” shouted Wright, who didn’t like the mood in the courtroom one bit. “First off, it’s easy to place a weapon in the hands of an unconscious subject! You of all people should know that, Edgeworth. And second, the defense hasn’t had a chance to cross-examine a single witness yet!”

Across the room, Edgeworth chuckled and shrugged at the same time.“He has a point, your honor. I do recall how simple a thing it was to be framed for murder with a pistol. However, after hearing further testimony from our own detective Skye, I believe even Wright will have to drop his ludicrous argument.”

Out of Wright’s eye, he could see Sherlock starting to fidget, tapping his fingers on the desk. “If every trial contains this amount of pomp and circumstance with such little substance, I shall never set foot in a courtroom again.”

### Testimony: Ema Skye

Ema propped her pink-shaded glasses up onto her forehead as she took the stand. Her eyes were glued to one person behind the defense’s bench. “Wow, I can’t believe I’m standing in a room with _the_ Sherlock Holmes!”

“I can’t either,” muttered Sherlock, who did not share Ema's enthusiasm.

Edgeworth wagged a finger up and down in the air. “Ms. Skye, please refrain from getting… chatty with the defense.”

Ema extended an open palm towards the defense. “But-but Miles, Sherlock is right here!”

“Yes, and we are accusing his only friend of murder. Perhaps you will understand why he’s not reticent to your advances.”

Ema’s hand shot to her mouth as her eyes went wide. Her pink shades bobbed up and down as her head recoiled. “A-Advances? No no, Mr. Holmes, I promise you it’s - it’s nothing like that.”

Watson, who’d stood by in the defendant’s chair in the corner of the room until now, cleared his throat and spoke up. “Miss Skye, I promise you, there’s no need to apologize.”

Ema tilted her head. “Ah...why?”

John shook his head. “Because even if your intent was flirtatious, he wouldn’t know.”

Ema blinked. “But - but Edgeworth just-”

“No no, I - I promise you, he still doesn’t know.” Watson motioned to Sherlock, whose face remained as neutral as could be.

Sherlock turned to Watson and blinked. “What? Know what, John?”

Watson shrugged. “See?”

A loud _thump_ drew everyone’s attention to the prosecution’s podium. Edgeworth’s fist was down, resting atop the pulpit. “Objection! I _object_ to this frivolous waste of time!”

“I concur with the prosecution,” said Sherlock.

Edgeworth could take no more. His eyes grew stern and his voice boomed across the Courtroom. “Ms. Skye, present the facts of the case! If the next thing out of your mouth doesn’t relate to the murder of Dr. Olgist, we’ll discuss how your time is spent in court at your next performance review… and how it ought to relate to your pay.”

Ema scowled, balled her hand into a fist, and let it rest on her hip. “Alright, alright! I get it! Geez.” Ema lowered her glasses as she began to recite her statement. “Dr. Olgist was shot with John Watson’s service pistol, a Browning L9A1. Evidence suggests the pistol was fired twice. And, of course, we found his prints on the firearm.”

_Of course you did, it’s his service pistol! Something would be amiss if you didn't find his prints there. There’s no proof Watson’s the one who pulled the trigger!_

Wright pounded the desk and prepared to make an objection, but Edgeworth extended a wagging finger once more. “Ah ah ah Wright, allow me to spare you a small modicum of embarrassment, yes? Ms. Skye, would you please explain to the court how we know John Watson’s service pistol is the murder weapon?”

Ema raised her glasses with a single hand, a smirk on her face. “Of course! During the autopsy, a 9-millimeter bullet was recovered from the victim’s body, which matches the caliber of Watson’s sidearm. We couldn’t recover ballistic markings, but Watson’s L9A1 ejects empty shells from the chamber. During our initial search, we found two shell casings on the museum floor - right next to John Watson himself.”

“Oh my,” said the Judge, “he was found at the scene? With the casings still present?”

“Yes, your honor,” said Edgeworth. “The Meadow Museum is equipped with a silent alarm security system. When the defendant shattered an exterior window upon entry, unbeknownst to him, the police were already dispatched. We have a picture of the point of entry, of course.”

##### SUBMITTED INTO EVIDENCE - Watson’s Service Pistol, 9mm bullet, Shattered window, 9mm Casings

Wright studied the exterior photo of a shattered window. Small planters with green foliage lined the building. The exterior stained glass window above the planter was indeed shattered, ruining what appeared to formerly be a stained-glass rendition of an elephant raising its trunk - only the tip of the ear and the extended trunk remained on the top half of the pane. There was no shattered glass along the ground below the window, a sure sign someone did, in fact, use it to break in and not out. But, what proof was there Watson was responsible for the broken window?

Wright studied what glass still remained attached to the pane. While examining the shards along the bottom of the frame, Wright noticed the unmistakable tint of blood. Finally, Wright had something to challenge the prosecution's case. He raised his hand and -

And Sherlock slapped it down. “Wright,” said Sherlock. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“You think you’ve found a clue, but I assure you, it’s - “

“Objection!” Shouted Wright, pointer finger extended. “There’s no proof my client is the one who shattered this window! The defense requests the blood visible in this photo be tested immediately.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Wright saw Sherlock's hand cover his eyes, seemingly in embarrassment. Further yet, Watson’s hand slowly raised into the sky, like a student ashamed to ask a question. “Ah, Mister Wright? About that...”

As Watson's hand climbed, Wright’s stomach sunk in equal measure.

Edgeworth chuckled. “Ema Skye was lead detective on this case. She’s known in the department for getting luminol and fingerprint dust on all our belongings. Do you _really_ suppose she didn’t notice the blood?”

_Oh no._

Ema twiddled her fingers, looking almost guilty for doing her job. “I’m sorry Wright, but the DNA from the blood in this photo is a match for one Dr. John Watson.”

The galley went into an uproar. Gasps of surprise and loud conversations echoed through the courtroom.

Across the way, Miles Edgeworth bowed, twirling his right hand as it dropped as if bowing for curtain call.

“Nooooo…” groaned Wright, as he slumped over the bench. It’d been quite a while since a case had gone so poorly for him before he’d even gotten started.

“Well, there goes our defense,” said Athena, who slumped over with him. Only Holmes remained upright.

“Do you win all your cases this way?” Sherlock asked curtly. “You were too focused on the photo - had you observed the room instead, you would’ve noticed the prosecutor's calm demeanor and obvious smirk, a clear indication you were stepping into -”

“ - A trap.”

“Yes. A trap. Like everyone else, you see, but you do not observe.”

A pounding gavel restored order to the room. “Order! Order!” Once the Judge had regained control of the court, he addressed Wright directly. “Mister Wright, I must warn you - I am currently prepared to render my verdict. The prosecution has presented overwhelming evidence! Given the current facts of the case, I see no other possibilities.”

Wright picked himself back up. _John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are counting on me. I can’t crumble now._ “Please wait, your honor! The defense has the right to cross-examine the witness!”

“Very well. But, if you do not make a compelling defense for your client during this cross-examination, I will end this trial now. Is that understood?”

Wright nodded. “Yes, your honor.” _Now’s our chance - if we don’t poke a shattered elephant window-sized hole in the prosecution’s defense, it all ends right here!_ He couldn’t find any contradictions in her statements now, but there might be a way to shake another one loose. “Miss Skye, can you describe where Dr. Olgist was shot?”

“Of course. The bullet entered his upper body, just under his right clavicle. It traveled through his body at a downward angle and collided with his floating rib.”

Wright looked down at his own chest, imaging where the entry point would be. _Hmmm… that’s strangely high, isn’t it?_

“And how tall is the late archaeologist?”

“According to his autopsy report, he was six feet, four inches.”

Edgeworth laughed and shook his head. “What next, Wright? Shall we discuss Olgist’s hair and eye color?”

Sherlock’s fingers tapped at the pulpit faster and faster. “Wright, if you do not point out the glaring contradiction here, I will do it for you and endure all penalties.”

“But- I’m the one who suffers those penalties. You don’t have a badge.”

“Oh yes,” said Holmes. “I know.”

Wright only had a gut instinct to carry him forward now, but if he did nothing, the case ended now. With Holmes’s prompting, Wright pressed into their first proper defense. “Watson, how tall are you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, five… nine? Ten?”

“He’s short,” exclaimed Sherlock. “Five feet, six inches, to be exact.”

“Thanks, Holmes,” Said Watson, as he cleared his throat. Then added, “Thanks for clarifying.”

“Where are you going with this, Wright?” Said Edgeworth.

“It’s simple. If John Watson were really the one to shoot Dr. Olgist, the bullet would’ve penetrated lower on his body!”

“I… uh... object.” Said Edgeworth, waving a limp finger in the air. “I find this - objectionable.”

“Overruled,” said the Judge with a shake of the head. “Continue, Mister Wright.”

“Thank you, Your honor. It’s simple - for John Watson to have shot Olgist below his right clavicle and still have the bullet travel at a downward angle, he would’ve had to raise his arm straight into the air and angle his wrist downward.” Wright mimicked such an action for the court by raising his right hand into the air and pulling an invisible trigger. “This makes no sense!”

Edgeworth folded his arms. “Whether or not it makes sense is irrelevant! It is entirely possible he - “

Sherlock leaned across the bench. “He would not. John Watson is a former combatant in the Royal Army, a Fusilier, in fact, and therefore trained in the proper operation of a firearm. The Browning’s recoil, fired twice, with his wrist extended in such a compromising position, would apply 4.5 Newton’s of energy directly to the weakest portion of his wrist, which would undoubtedly result in a sprain or injury. John, is your wrist sprained in any way?”

“Ah, no. It is not.”

“And there you have it,” said Sherlock, who seemed like he might be enjoying his time in a courtroom.

“Mister Holmes, no matter how famous you are, I must remind you that you do not possess a badge! Leave the arguments to your lawyer,” said The Judge, who then contemplated Sherlock’s statements, and added “But he does have a point. Detective Skye, do you have an explanation?”

Ema Skye propped her glasses up with her pointer finger. “Of course! There’s another way to account for the angle - the height.”

“Height?”

“That’s right, Wright! Height!”

 _Okay, I’ll bite,_ thought Wright, who now felt trapped in a Dr. Suess book. “What do you mean by height?”

“Simple. Consider Watson’s position in this photo.”

Wright examined the picture - Dr. Olgist lay on his back, and only a few feet from him, slumped by the staircase, was John Watson. Sue’s bones were scattered around the tile floor.

“If Watson had fired his gun from the staircase, it would explain the path of the bullet.”

“That’s absurd!” exclaimed Watson. “I never made it to the staircase!”

The Judge slammed down his gavel once. “Dr. Watson, you will contain yourself in my courtroom. Now, what does the defense say? Does this explain the discrepancy?”

Wright examined all the evidence strewn across his bench, while Sherlock observed over his shoulder. “Wright, there is a simple answer and simple contradiction to this, please, _please_ , for the love god, point it out.”

Wright ignored his client, taking in the evidence. Finally, he had an answer. He shook his head with an emphatic _no_. “No, your honor. There’s no bones about it - the prosecution’s scenario does not work.”

“Ugh,” said Ema. She turned her head and sneered towards the sky. “If you’re going to tear my investigation apart, could you at least do it without a lousy pun?”

“Very well, Defense.” The Judge said, ignoring Ema’s remark. “Why isn’t Ms. Skye’s scenario correct?”

“The bones, your honor. Please refer to the photo.” Wright rapt the photo in his hand twice with two fingers. “Notice how Sue’s bones only scattered across the first floor. The staircase, the landing, even the second floor are devoid of debris. In order for John to have taken a blow from a falling bone, he would’ve had to be on the bottom floor!”

The galley exploded with noise once more. The air was alive with murmurs of disbelief.

“Objection!” Exclaimed Edgeworth. “This is preposterous!”

“Hmmmm... this logic is sound to me, Mister Edgeworth. It’s rather unlikely John Watson would’ve shot Olgist from the staircase, yet somehow ended up unconscious on the ground floor. Do you spot a flaw in the defense’s assertion?”

“Ye-yes.” Edgeworth shook a finger in Wright’s direction, but it lacked the usual confidence. It wavered in place. _He’s shaken. Now’s our chance to turn this around!_

Edgeworth paused for a while. His right hand laid out on the bench. His fingers tapped in a line, pinky to pointer, three times. The galley had since gone dead silent - the light rappings of his fingertips were heard by all.

“Prosecution?”

Suddenly, Edgeworth slammed his hand down, something Wright had seen many times. _This won’t be good._

“The defense’s claim only holds if we assume Sue collapsed on both men at the same time.”

“What sort of nonsense is this?” Muttered Sherlock under his breath, seemingly to himself.

“Consider this, if you will - Watson shoots Dr. Olgist from the landing. As he falls, he reaches out and grabs onto Sue for support. As John descends the staircase to confirm his kill, the support gives way and the fossil collapses upon them both. Thus, John commits the crime, and then sustains his fated concussion.”

The Judge nodded. “Hmmm… I suppose that sounds reasonable.”

“ _Gods,_ this is laborious,” exclaimed Sherlock. “Does anyone in the courtroom actually analyze data, or do you all simply consume it like simpletons?”

Athena placed a single finger on her chin as she pondered Holmes’s question.

“I don’t think he wanted an answer, Athena.” said Wright. “What do you mean, Sherlock?”

“It is as you said, Wright - the bones.”

The Judge turned his attention to the defense. “What do you say, Mr. Wright? Did the prosecution resolve all contradictions?”

Wright studied the photo again. _There’s a contradiction here, but I don’t like what it suggests…_

Holmes startled Wright back to reality. “Wright. Place your phone on the bench. Somewhere you can see it.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t ask. Just do.”

Athena shot Wright a sideways glance from his left. “Hey, Mr. Wright? When the world's best detective says to do something, maybe just do it, yeah?”

Wright slid his phone onto the bench. (already in silent mode, of course - he’d gotten into the habit of silencing it before entering the courtroom after his first penalty for a ringing phone.)

The phone’s screen lit up.

 **I know how it looks. - S.H.** **Do it anyway. - S.H.**

 _Wait, how is he_ \- Wright glanced towards Holmes. His focus was straightforward on the courtroom, no phone in his hand at all. Wright followed his arm down and noticed his right-hand fidgeting in his coat pocket.

Wirght blinked. “Are you… texting without looking?”

“Yes.”

“When did you add yourself as a contact in my phone?”

“While we were waiting to enter the courtroom. Do keep up.”

The Judge cleared his throat and lifted his gavel. “Well, defense? Am I to assume you have no problem with the prosecution’s claims?”

“No, your honor. There is a problem.” _I sure hope Holmes is right._ “Please refer to the photo once more. Observe how Dr. Olgist is covered in bones.”

“Of course,” said Edgeworth, “as is to be expected when a fossil collapses upon you.”

“Right, but now turn your attention to Watson. Bones surround him, but none rest directly upon him.”

Edgeworth reeled back in shock, clutching his ascot. “Wright, are you mad? You realize you’re supposed to be defending your client, yes?”

“I am, but I cannot deny the truth this photo suggests.”

The Judge stepped in. “Mister Wright, just what _does_ this photo suggest?”

Edgeworth was the first to answer. “Your honor, Wright has just proven a simpler possibility - as Watson has no bones on top of him, it is entirely possible he did not sustain his injury as Sue fell!”

Wright hadn't finished his own argument yet. “Wait, Edgeworth - ”

Wright’s protests went unheard. Edgeworth powered on. “This presents us with a simpler explanation of the facts. Watson fired once, missed, and struck the fossil. Sue collapsed, Olgist suffered a blow to the head, and Watson executed him with a single shot once he was rendered prone! Refer to the photo, if you would.”

Wright looked at the photo. Dr. Olgist was on his back, face upright, and pointed towards Watson. He could see where this was going. _Oh no. Not Good!_

“As you can see, if Watson were to fire into Dr. Olgist’s resting body from an upright position, it would explain the sharp downward angle the bullet took as it traveled through his body! And there you have it.” Edgeworth bowed once more, a sinister smirk on his face.

The phone buzzed.

**Well Done. - S.H.**

Wright wondered if Sherlock was watching the same trial.

Athena exploded with anger. “Hey, Boss! What gives?” Wright turned to see a furious Athena, hands clutched in fists, eyes white with rage. Even widget, her A.I. necklace, flashed bright red with fury. “Jerk!” it exclaimed. “We’re supposed to be defending Watson, not putting him away!”

Wright prepared to respond to Athena’s outburst, but Holmes drew their attention away as he stepped out from behind the bench once more. “At which point, Mister Edgeworth, I suppose Watson stood up, walked over to the staircase, clubbed himself on the back of his own head with a bone, and patiently waited to be caught next to a mountain of incriminating evidence?”

Edgeworth’s smile faded. The galley exploded with chatter.

_Ha! Doesn’t feel so good when you’re the one triggering the trap, does it Miles? Note to self; do everything the phone says from now on._

The Judge contemplated Holmes’s words, this time without derision. “Hmmm. This does seem to be a rather unlikely series of events, Mr. Edgeworth. How could Dr. Watson have remained standing after the collapse long enough to shoot Olgist, yet still be rendered unconscious?”

“That’s not the only problem, Your Honor. Miss Skye,” said Wright, turning his attention back to the witness stand. “Did your team recover the second bullet?”

“No,” said Ema. “We’ve scanned the entire bottom floor searching for a rogue bullet, and we’ve yet to even find a point of impact. ”

 _I don’t believe it! For once, a lack of evidence is going to work in my favor._ “If that’s the case, the idea Watson misfired and brought down Sue is pure conjecture. Might I remind the court again - Watson has a history of military service. It seems unlikely he’d shoot down a fossil when aiming for someone two feet in front of him. Furthermore, we’ve yet to hear sufficient proof as to John Watson’s motive from the prosecution!”

The Judge nodded. “The defense’s reasoning is once again sound. The prosecution’s evidence may be strong, but without motive and a reasonable assertion of events, I cannot pass a sentence.”

Edgeworth wiggled his finger in front of his face. _You’ve got to be kidding me. He has something?_

Edgeworth shrugged. “I admit, the defense is correct. There is not sufficient evidence to prove Watson assassinated both the Doctor and the fossil. However, on the topic of motive… Miss Skye?”

Ema looked worried. She folded her arms and tilted her head. “Are - are you sure, sir?”

“Yes, now is the time. No need to be coy.”

“Very well.” Ema produced a phone from her pocket - a proper smartphone, unlike Phoenix’s relic. “This is John Watson’s phone, which we confiscated from the scene. There’s an appointment to meet with Dr. Olgist in his address book on the night of the murder.”

##### SUBMITTED INTO EVIDENCE - John Watson’s Phone

The Galley exploded in noise. In the commotion, Wright’s phone buzzed.

**Drafts Folder. - S.H.**

_“Whaaaat!?”_ The Judge banged his gavel, but the noise persisted. “Prosecution, why was this not presented sooner!?”

“Apologies, your honor. I’m afraid we acquired confidential information regarding an ongoing case in Scotland Yard. We were under orders to avoid revealing these details unless it proved necessary.” Edgeworth shook a finger towards Wright with another wry smile. “When the Queen demands answers, I’ll be sure to send her the Wright Anything Agency’s address.”

_Mental note - find new office._

Once Watson’s phone reached the desk, Wright immediately began cycling through screens to find the draft folder. First though, he stumbled across a series of text messages with immediately recognizable initials.

**Where are you? -J.W.**

**Outside meadow museum. -S.H.**

**How? I only popped out for two minutes! - J.W.**

**Come here. Hurry. - S.H.**

**Bring Gun. - S.H.**

_Did Holmes know Olgist was in danger?_ Wright didn’t ponder the question much longer - from what he’d seen in court today, Holmes being miles ahead of everyone else was the new normal.

Wright found the drafts folder on the third page of apps. There was only one entry. He tapped the rather ominous title and began skimming the entry.

 

##### THE PEMBROKE POLTERGEIST

_In West Wales lies the small village of Pembroke. Known for a rich history as the birthplace of King Henry VII, the city is often inundated with tourists hoping to take in sights of their ancient ancestry. While many visit Pembroke as sightseers, Holmes and I instead arrived, as we often do, on a case. We never expected the first leg of our investigation would begin with us being tossed from the ramparts of Pembroke Castle with malicious intent, stuck among the thick foliage around the castle walls, while a ghastly figure loomed above us, no doubt the very architect of our fall. Nor could we expect our journey would eventually take us across the pond to the Colonies in search of answers._

_Our road there began when a letter arrived at 221b Baker Street from one Dana Stapes..._

 

“He began typing it out during our flight,” Holmes whispered.

The facts of the case began shifting in Wright’s mind. “You two weren't just here on a social visit, you were here on this case. You two are _still_ hunting for this Pembroke Poltergeist!”

“We are, and we believe him - or her - to be the true murderer of Dr. Archie Olgist, but none of this will matter if Watson is convicted of the crime. Now, observe Edgeworth this time. _Really observe,_ don’t just see.”

Miles smiled as he studied the chatter in the galley, a single finger tapping on his arm as he watched the chaos.

“Does he appear worried to you?”

“He’s right, Boss,” said Athena. “I think Edgeworth is about to try and stick a fork in our case and call us done.”

The courtroom chatter finally began to die out. The Judge banged his gavel three times to silence it for good. “Mister Edgeworth, you will explain to this court how John Watson’s phone proves motive!”

“Of course, Your Honor.” Edgeworth stood upright. “I will admit, Wright has cast much doubt on the specifics of our case. I will... _discuss_... the sloppiness of the investigation with the lead detective privately.”

“As if!” yelled Ema, a hand on her hip. Her eyes dropped into a scowl. “I told you we needed more time for fingerprinting and luminol testing! _And_ we still had a missing bullet. You’re the one who rushed this investigation! My team didn’t even have time to properly canvas the second floor -“

 _“Ahem,”_ Edgeworth exclaimed loudly, silencing her protests. “Yes, well - let us, um, table this discussion for now and resume the case, yes? Miss Skye, you may step down.”

Ema made no such motion towards the door. Instead, she fumed, and her brow furrowed even more. “I’m not like my scruffy predecessor, Edgeworth! You don’t get to just threaten my salary! Wanna pay me less? Fine, let’s see how _reticent_ I am to get you timely results!”

Edgeworth slumped over, aware he was quickly losing the high ground. “That will be all, Miss Skye.”

Ema stomped down from the Witness stand and returned to the galley. The entire world heard each stomp before she found an empty seat, and collapsed into it with a huff.

The Judge turned his attention to Edgeworth. “Prosecution, you will explain why it has taken half the day for this information to come to light!”

“Of course your - “

The sounds of crinkling paper took everyone’s focus off Edgeworth. A rapid munching noise took over the galley. It sounded not unlike Equi devouring a carrot at rapid speed. Wright couldn’t see who it was from his spot in the bench, but he didn't need to. Only one person had earned the right to stress-eat at a time like this.

The Judge, who _did_ have clear line of sight on the offender, banged his gavel and pointed it towards the galley. “Miss Skye, there will be no snackoos in my courtroom. Save your munching for recess, Understood?”

The munching stopped.

“Now, Mister Edgeworth, resume.”

“Of course, your honor.” Edgeworth produced a piece of paper from under his bench and held it in his hand as he spoke. “We were asked by one D.I. Lestrade to reveal as little information as possible, but it is now necessary to bring the nature of our consulting detective’s visit stateside light. Holmes and Wright were not in town for a social visit. Their meeting with Dr. Olgist had a singular purpose - to follow-up on a lead for their current case.”

Watson shot up from his box in the courtroom. “Wait, wait! Prosecutor, you can’t-”

Edgeworth shook his head with his arms outstretched. “Apologies, Dr. Watson, but I do not peddle in secrets. Only the truth. Holmes and Watson were following the trail of one individual dubbed the Pembroke Poltergeist, a criminal thought to be responsible for the murder of two tourists at Pembroke Castle in Wales - Chelsea Manchester and Milo Donovan. It is believed this agent of chaos evaded capture by hiding in plain sight.”

“Plain sight?” asked Wright, rubbing his chin. “How does that work?”

“Seriously,” said Athena. “What kind of killer just waits to be caught?”

Edgeworth wagged his finger. “Tell me Wright, when was the last time you went out for dinner?”

Phoenix pondered the question for a moment, trying to recall the last night they ate something that didn’t come in take-out boxes. “Two weeks ago, after Trucy’s show. Why?”

“Please share your waiter or waitresses’ name for the court.”

“I - uh…Oh!” Wright couldn’t recall a thing about his waiter, but that was exactly the point. _Ahhhh! Of course!_

“I don’t get it,” said Athena, flicking her earring again. “Is Edgeworth saying the murderer served us Chicken Alfredo two weeks ago?”

 _Looks like Athena’s memory is too good for Edgeworth’s hypothetical lessons._ “Uh, Not quite, Athena. He’s saying our Poltergeist evaded capture by posing as a staff member. A Groundskeeper or security guard, most likely.”

“So he pretended to be working a job he knows nothing about, right out the open!? _Per amor di dio,_ that’s Gutsy!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Wright could see only the slightest movements in Sherlock’s arm, no doubt texting furiously. However, Wright’s phone hadn’t buzzed at all. It sat motionless on the bench. _Now who’s phone is he blowing up?_

Edgeworth continued. “There we are, Wright, now you’ve caught up. However, once this murderer became aware Holmes and Watson had taken the case, they fled. The internet’s favorite duo here pursued, and had reason to believe the US is where they headed next.”

 _Story time is great and all, Edgeworth, but our client's future is on the line._ Wright brought the matter back to trial. “All this is fascinating, Miles, but how does any of this implicate my client for murder?”

“I’m afraid I’m unable to divulge _all_ the specifics. Scotland Yard has kept some secrets for themselves yet, I'm afraid, but we will drag these truths to light. However, here is what I am permitted to say - Watson and Holmes had reason to believe Dr. Olgist knew the identity of their assailant.”

Wright saw where Edgeworth’s reasoning would take them, and it spelled immediate disaster for today’s trial.

“It is the assertion of the prosecution John Watson mistakenly believed he did not, in fact, stand before Dr. Olgist that night, but the Pembroke Poltergeist himself!”

“Objection!” Shouted Wright, but his objection went unheard as the entire courtroom came alive with protests and conversation. Even John Watson was on his feet, screaming and yelling into the mass of voices, but with the courtroom alive with noise, Wright could not hear what anyone around him had to say.

The phone buzzed.

**Fool of a prosecutor. - S.H.**

**We must accomplish two things immediately. - S.H.**

**Convince the poltergeist, who is no doubt watching, they are not under suspicion, and Convince the court there was a third party present who committed the crime. - S.H.**

_..Is that it? He's right, but how could I-_ The phone buzzed again.

**Must I spell this out for you? We have no evidence to suggest another shooter was present, but we do know someone else who was, don't we?-S.H.**

Wright turned a tilted head towards Holmes as the judge continued to bang his gavel, struggling to regain control of his courtroom. _Is he suggesting...?_ If Holmes understood the gravity of what he was asking, his face didn’t show it. It remained as calm and calculated as ever.

Holmes nodded towards the phone.

**Yes, Wright. You must call me as a witness. - S.H.**

**Accuse me of murder. -S.H.**

It took another five minutes for the judge to regain control of the courtroom. "Order! Order!" The Judge turned his attention towards the prosecution. _So a killer who's a master of disguise is still on the loose, huh?This entire galley is going to be giving their waiters the side-eye for weeks after this._ “This is remarkable! Mister Edgeworth, this is vital information you’ve presented to the court! Is it true? Did Watson actually shoot the Poltergeist while he was disguised as Dr. Olgist?”

Edgeworth shrugged. “This remains to be seen, your honor. The coroner is still conducting a more thorough autopsy, but we currently believe the body belongs to the true Dr. Olgist. The prosecution posits Olgist is the victim of a fatal misunderstanding, brought on by high tensions and poor visibility.”

“Objection!” Shouted Wright. “We know nothing about this Poltergeist! Who’s to even say he resembles the Doctor?”

Edgeworth responded with a waggling finger. “And who’s to say he does not? Or are you saying you can prove the body on a slab in the morgue is not, in fact, Dr. Olgist?”

 _What do I do? Could I bluff my way through this?_ Wright reviewed the evidence as he pondered. But, even if it were true and Dr. Olgist turned up alive, Watson had been very clear - he did not remember shooting anyone. _If I can prove it was someone else, it would at least take the pressure off -_

His phone buzzed three times, shaking the wood beneath his hands.

**Do. - S.H.**

**Not. - S.H.**

**Bluff. - S.H.**

_Okay then._ “N - No. I cannot.” Said Wright.

Edgeworth shook his head. “I expected as much. Perhaps you have learned something all these years later, Wright.”

The Judge turned towards the prosecution’s bench. “Nonetheless, the defense has pointed out many concerning contradictions in your case. The missing bullet, Watson’s unusual resting place, the bullet’s inconsistent wound. Have you nothing to say for all the holes in your case, Edgeworth?”

“I do, your honor, and it is quite simply; so what?” Edgeworth shrugged, both hands high in the air. “Perhaps John Watson collapsed later than Olgist, or at the same time. Perhaps the bullet bounced off a rib, which caused the lower body exit wound. Perhaps the second bullet found its way through a pesky air conditioning vent. No matter how many inconsistencies the defense finds, there are two immutable facts he cannot change - The victim was shot with John Watson’s Browning, and John Watson was the only suspect present with the opportunity to kill Dr. Olgist!”

 _I’m not really doing this, am I?_ Wright could feel the sweat building on his forehead. Even after being a practicing attorney for almost a decade, situations like this didn’t seem to come with any less performance anxiety. But accusing Sherlock Holmes as a witness and conspiring to lie on the stand was the textbook definition of perjury.

Wright glanced towards John Watson, who sat in the defendant’s box with his hands together, handling all of this as stoically as possible. Since Wright was about to accuse his best friend of murder, that stoicism probably wasn’t going to last much longer.

_Ohhh boy, my client is not going to be happy about this._

**Quit. Stalling. - S.H.**

“Hmmm…” The Judge pondered Edgeworth’s points, and eventually nodded in agreement. “This is regrettable indeed, but I must admit, if John Watson was the only other person in the building with means and motive, I see no other possibilities. Therefore, there is only one possible way we may continue. Defense, if you cannot cast doubt upon the murder weapon or the opportunity present in the prosecution's claim, then I am prepared to render my verdict.”

Wright slammed both his hands onto the desk in front of him. There was no going back now. “Please wait, Your Honor! The Defense is prepared to cast doubt on the prosecution’s claims! Uh, major doubt!”

The Galley erupted once more.

Wright leaned towards Athena. “What’s the phrase you and Trucy use to describe pointed ad hominem attacks with an undercurrent of passive-aggressiveness?”

Athena smirked, crossed her arms, and locked eyes with Edgeworth. “Throwin’ shade, boss. Serious shade.”

“Right. The defense is prepared to throw a lot shade your way, Edgeworth!”

Edgeworth covered his face, one eye visible between his spread fingers. “Really, Wright?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Athena’s assertive stance crumble. “Uh, maybe stick to your own generation’s idioms, Boss.”

“Very well Defense, let us hear this shade of which you speak. Which of the Prosecution’s claims are you prepared to disprove?”

 _This is it. No turning back._ “It’s simple, Your Honor - there _was_ someone else there that night. Someone else who had the same opportunity, motive, and murder weapon.”

Edgeworth shook his head. “And just what evidence do you possibly have to prove the existence of a mystery shooter? Might I remind you Wright, our detectives explored all possibilities - there is no proof anyone else other than Holmes, Watson, and Dr. Olgist were in the Meadow Museum that night!”

 _All possibilities? We just heard your own lead detective admit otherwise!_ “We don’t need to look any further than this courtroom. In fact, we don’t even need to look beyond the defense’s bench!”

Watson’s head shot up. “I'm sorry, what?”

 _Here we go._ “At this time, the defense calls Sherlock Holmes to the stand!”

As the galley erupted in noise, Watson shot to his feet. “What!? Wright, Stop that! This instant!”

Edgeworth was aghast. He clutched his white jabot with his right hand as he would clutch his own stopped heart. “Wh-what!?”

The Judge’s gavel couldn’t be heard over to sounds of protests and yells. “Silence! Silence or I will clear this courtroom!” After multiple gavel pounds, the galley quieted down.

The Judge may have regained control of the courtroom, but there was no controlling John Watson. “You’re _my_ attorney, Wright! I will not let you accuse Sherlock of murder! He had nothing to do with -"

Sherlock silenced him. “With all due respect John, you were unconscious for most of the night, and therefore have no way of knowing what I am or am not responsible for. Please sit.”

John did no such thing.

The Judge shook his head. “Mister Wright, even for you this is a shocking turn - compelling your own client to testify?”

Sherlock stepped out from behind the bench. “John Watson is his client, not me. Yet.”

John could no longer resign himself to his corner of the courtroom. He leaped out from behind his stand as the bailiffs fled to control him. ”Yes, and as his client, I demand he stop this at once!”

“No you don’t,” Sherlock said.

“Wright, you’re - you’re fired. Understood? Fired as my defense attorney!”

Sherlock turned towards Wright. “No you’re not. Stay there please.”

“Holmes, you - you can’t do this! Please!”

Sherlock remained undeterred by his partner's pleading. He attention remained on The Judge. “Your honor, our client has become hostile and the defense asks he be detained for the remainder of the trial.”

“Sherlock, I won't - you - you can't-”

_Oof. If this is how Sherlock treats his friends, it’s a miracle he has any at all._

The Judge banged his gavel. “Today’s trial has gone on long enough, and with more than enough distractions. The Defense's request is granted. Bailiff, please escort Watson out of the courtroom.”

John continued screaming as two Bailiff's dragged him away, his feet scraping the ground as he fought back. “What? But I -- Wright! Holmes! Stop the trial now! _Please!_ ”

_Sorry Watson, but it’s the only way to buy ourselves some time. And, uh, he told me to do it._

Once John Watson disappeared safely behind the doors, Sherlock stepped onto the witness stand. “I presume I will be asked to testify about the night of the crime.”

Edgeworth wagged a finger. “You presume correctly. Sherlock Holmes, take the stand and divulge to the court what you were doing at the Meadow Museum the night of the murder.”

Wright turned to Athena and kept his voice low. “Athena, I - “

“ _Santo Cielo,_ give me some credit, Boss! I see your phone too, I know what’s going on!” Athena played with her air, a melancholy look in her eyes. “I hate to see Watson so upset, but It’s - It’s the only way we’ll save him today.”

“Ye-yeah.”

Athena sniffed.

 _Is she… holding back tears?_ “What?”

Athena looked at Wright like she was about to ask if they could keep a newly found puppy. “Sherlock _really_ cares about him. I feel his heart practically screaming in desperation.”

_Are we talking about the same person? He loves him so much, he just had him escorted away in handcuffs without so much as a glance._

Wright knew, with one more day, he could discover the truth of what happened in the Meadow Museum. But, without any evidence pointing to another party in the museum at the time of the murder, there was only one way to survive today - indict Sherlock Holmes as a suspect.


	6. Trial, Day 1 - Testimony of Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a bold move to save Watson from a murder charge, Wright has called Sherlock Holmes to the stand to indict him as a suspect.

#### DISTRICT COURTROOM NO. 2

#### MARCH 3RD, 1:52 PM

### Testimony: Sherlock Holmes

After a brief recess, Sherlock Holmes took the stand.

Edgeworth stood tall, the image of perfect posture. “State your name and occupation for the record, please.”

“Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. Flat renter.”

“Just your occupation will suffice, Holmes. Now, were you present at the Meadow Museum the night of doctor Olgist’s murder?”

“That has yet to be determined, but I was present the night John Watson was arrested for murder, yes.”

Edgeworth pointed a finger in Sherlock's direction. “Please enlighten the court as to what you were doing while John Watson met with Doctor Olgist.”

Holmes nodded once. “As you wish. As the court has already surmised, Watson and I arrived at the Meadow Museum far ahead of schedule. I arrived before Watson, in fact, out of concern our culprit would attempt to silence Doctor Olgist before our meeting.”

Edgeworth smirked. “Ah yes, this Pembroke Poltergeist.”

“I refuse to use that foolish name,” Said Sherlock. “There are no Poltergeists, and certainly not from Pembroke.”

“Holmes, please set your personal opinions on ghosts aside, and divulge to the court where you were during the murder.”

“Personal opinion?" Sherlock's brow furrowed. "You mean what this courtroom thinks of as facts?”

Edgeworth slammed his desk with a closed fist. “Your testimony, Holmes. _Please._ ”

“Oh yes, because this court has made such efficient use of time so far.” Holmes exhaled, composed himself, and continued. “It is as Watson said in his outburst earlier. As he entered the museum’s main hall, I instructed Watson to stay on the ground floor, and I remained on the first to eliminate the suspect's avenues of escape.”

The Judge looked perplexed. "Ground...floor?" He repeated.

Edgeworth stepped in to clarify. “In this country, Holmes, we refer to the ground floor as the first.”

Sherlock glanced back and forth between the Judge and Edgeworth. "Then what sodding floor was I on?”

“The second,” Edgeworth answered.

“Of course. Always the way with you Americans, isn’t it? Who needs meters when you have feet, yards, and miles?”

“Holmes. _Your testimony.”_

“Yes, yes. Upon entry, I entered through the lobby, passed Sue, and took to the second floor.”

Wright heard the unmistakable _flip, flip_ of Athena flicking her earring, a common habit when she was lost in thought. “Hmmm…doesn’t that seem like a weird thing to do, boss?” She asked.

 _Yeah, especially if you consider what the room looked like as they entered._ “Hold it, Holmes! The Defense has a simple question. Why would you walk up the staircase? The entire purpose of your visit was to meet with Doctor Olgist, and judging from the crime scene photo, he was already waiting for you on the first - I mean, ground-” Wright made a choice. “Ah, the bottom floor. There was no reason for you to head upstairs!”

Holmes blinked. His head spun towards the defense, back the prosecution, and finally to The Judge. “Was it not obvious? I was already chasing the true assailant before Watson arrived. _that's_ why I ran up the staircase.”

The Judge shot up in his chair. “Whaaaat!? Oh my! So there _was_ someone else in the museum?”

Edgeworth laughed, his arms extended. “This is absurd. There's simply no evidence to suggest another party was present at all. How many times must we listen to the defense drag out the same tired argument with proof?”

Wright placed a hand on his chin, feigning a sarcastic contemplation of Edgeworth’s statement. “Oh? I don’t recall the _defense_ making any such argument, Edgeworth.”

The smile disappeared from Edgeworth’s face as he realized his mistake.

Holmes slammed a single hand on the witnesses’ stand like a contestant buzzing in at a game show. “That seems to be what you lot do before speaking, yes? Now, if I may explain -- It’s true, the _defense_ lacks evidence to support my claims, but I am no longer making this claim as Sherlock Holmes, client of the defense - I’m making it as Sherlock Holmes, witness to the murder. And as a witness, I claim to have seen another figure on the upper railing as we entered, opposite the staircase.”

Wright stepped in to continue the attack (without pounding the desk this time, as Holmes’ comment had made him self-conscious of the frequency to which he slammed the bench himself). “Getting it now, Edgeworth? Our witness claims to have seen another suspect, and In order to investigate his claims, I move we suspend today’s proceedings!”

“Hmmmm…” said the Judge. “A trial this important does merit a thorough investigation. If there are no objections, I am prepared to grant the defense’s request. Both the prosecution and defense may then investigate this matter further.”

_Yes! Somehow, we pulled it off!_

Athena clasped her hands together in joy. “That was amazing, Mr. Wright! Think Sherlock Holmes wants a job at our Agency as a full-time investigator?”

“Um, no. I don't think so.” _We can’t afford him, Athena. Trust me._ Wright’s attention turned towards Edgeworth, expecting to see him sweating bullets.

He wasn’t. Not at all. Instead, he smiled, standing upright and proud. _...No. There’s no way he was prepared for this, right?_

Edgeworth whisked a pile of new documents out from under his bench, and let them land with a _thud_ for dramatic effect. “Actually, your honor, The prosecution is able to present evidence we may use to continue with Mr. Holmes’ testimony.”

Athena placed a hand on the defense’s bench. “ _Non!_ He can’t be serious.”

Holmes must’ve heard her statement, because the phone buzzed.

**He is. - S.H.**

**Or did you two fail to notice the lack of crunching noises in the gallery? - S.H.**

Edgeworth continued. “The Defense seems determined to _will_ another shooter into existence who fired from a higher vantage point. Before our last recess, I excused Ema Skye and her forensic team to canvas the second-floor observation area, and they have since forwarded all relevant evidence they have uncovered so far.”

The Judge nodded. “I see. Your preparation is admirable, prosecution.”

Edgeworth wiggled his annoying finger in the air. “It seemed only right to give the defense a chance to prove their theory today, Your Honor, and thusly refrain from wasting our time tomorrow - should there _be_ a tomorrow.”

_Gee, thanks Miles. You shouldn’t have._

##### SUBMITTED INTO EVIDENCE - Second-floor photograph, Second-floor diagram.

The second-floor overlook was immaculate compared to the pile of bones below. Metal balcony railings lined the staircase and continued around the overlook. A section of the railing appeared to be missing on the far end, in the direction Sue’s head would’ve been facing when her body was still intact.

 _Hmm. I wonder if..._ Wright referred to the original crime scene photo - just as he thought, the missing railing was visible on the ground floor. A shattered, finely-polished white marble stone rested nearby the railing as well. One piece of this curious marble still had a metal cord attached. The rest of the wire disappeared under the pile of bones.

Wright returned to the second photo, this time examining the staircase. Attached on the other side, across from the missing railing, was another metal brace similar to the one still attached to the marble block below. The nub of a rather sturdy cord of some kind still dangled off the end of the brace. The end looked smooth and straight as if it were deliberately cut.

_I guess once this supporting beam was gone, Sue's weight was enough to pull this other marble block down. So how did it get cut?_

And, in the bottom right corner of the photo, just barely in frame, Wright spotted two green poles sticking out in a V-shape, with black rubber handles on their ends.

 _Almost looks like the end of a hedge clipper,_ Wright thought, wondering what on earth might need pruning at 11 P.M.

Also visible in the photo was a path that led further into the museum. In the distance was a room covered in ancient potteries, but just before the entrance to what he anticipated to be the most boring exhibit in any museum, a door that caught his eye. White, with no clear handles, and a simple red sign that read:

 

_Employees Only._

 

Athena clutched at Widget as she reviewed the evidence. “I - I don’t see anything to support Sherlock's story, boss. W-what do we do now?”

Wright clutched the side of his head with one hand. She was right - _something_ happened on the second floor, but there was nothing to suggest another shooter. _Okay, time to fall back on bad habits._

Athena slumped. “ _Mon dieu,_ I recognize that look. Try not to get us too many penalties, okay?”

Across the room, Edgeworth leaned over his bench, smirking. He waved a single palm in the air. “Well, Wright? Where’s your mysterious shooter now? Or perhaps Sue stole Watson’s gun and shot Doctor Archie herself?”

_Stole Watson’s gun...? Ah!_

Wright found his line of attack. His hands went to his hips, a newfound confidence restoring his posture. “Actually, Edgeworth, I believe our mysterious shooter is standing right here.”

The Judge’s eyebrows raised. “Mister Wright, you're not implying...”

Edgeworth's hand clutched into a fist, his smirk gone. “Wright, you can’t be serious.”

Wright nodded. “Yes, your honor. At this time, the defense formally accuses Sherlock Holmes of Dr. Olgist's murder.”

It took five minutes for the Judge to calm the outraged galley.

 

* * *

 

“Thank goodness,” said the Judge once the clamor had subsided. “I was truly worried our defense was about to accuse a fossil of murder.”

Edgeworth folded his arms, irritated beyond all measure. “Now that we’ve regained control of this _circus_ masquerading as a courtroom, do I have to be the one to point out the absurdity of the defense’s statements?”

“I believe I’m quite capable,” said Sherlock. He stood upright on the witness stand, still and calm as he’d been since the trial started. “If Mr. Wright wishes to suggest I’m the shooter, I believe he’d have to prove I knew Watson carried his firearm that night.”

Wright threw out a finger. “Of _course_ you knew! You and Watson are flatmates.”

Athena, who was now flicking through panels on her holo-screen, leaned in to whisper.“According to some corners of the internet, they’re _way_ more than flatmates.”

Wright ignored her commentary and continued, trying desperately to not concern himself with what Athena’s browsing history looked like. “Holmes had intimate knowledge of Watson’s belongings, including his service pistol. If all their fans across the world knew about it, how could Watson's own roommate _not_ know?”

Holmes' eyes narrowed in annoyance. “I’m sorry, did you get bored and nod off halfway through my sentence? _Of course_ I knew Watson owned a pistol, but the burden of proof on you is to _prove_ I knew he had it that night!”

Holmes had just thrown a soft, easy pitch right down the center. His emphasis on the word _prove_ communicated exactly what Wright needed to do now.  _This is it. The perfect foundation to build our case from - even if it’s a fake one._

The Judge nodded in agreement. “Mister Wright, Holmes is correct. You are making a dire claim, and if you cannot back it up, I will be forced to heavily penalize you.”

“O-of course, your honor. If I may - “ Wright picked up Watson’s phone and scrolled to previous messages. “Tell me, Edgeworth, when you collected Watson’s phone, did you happen to scroll through his messaging history?”

Edgeworth instinctively moved a hand to his ascot and gripped it like a security blanket, but his face remained still and calm. _Doesn’t take Apollo and his bracelet to see through your discomfort, Edgeworth._

Wright continued the attack. “There’s a message here from a contact with the initials S.H. that reads, quite explicitly, ‘bring gun.’” Wright slammed his hands down on the desk for dramatic effect (as every good lawyer often did), but forgot he was still holding the phone. Instead of the usual dull thud, the phone turned his pound into a _Ka-thunk, clack!_

Sherlock winced. “Do be nicer to John’s property, Wright.”

“S.H?” Said the Judge. “Why that’s your initials! Sherlock Holmes!”

Edgeworth let go of his ascot and cleared his throat. “Ahem, Mister Wright. May I see that phone?”

Wright tossed John's phone across the courtroom. Edgeworth caught it, and palmed it as if he were holding a dead pigeon. After a few seconds thumbing through screens, he seemed to find exactly what he was looking for. “Mister Holmes, are you willing to confirm you did, in fact, send this text?”

Holmes winced, but something about it looked forced, practiced. _Is he pretending to be caught?_ “I did.”

“Good, that saves me the trouble of having to prove you wrong. Your honor, the contact number matches our records.”

The Judge’s eyebrows remained raised. “Then you admit it, Mister Holmes? You admit you asked John Watson to bring a gun?”

“It seems I must, yes.”

 _Time to put on the pressure - with apologies to my client._ Wright leaned forward. “I don’t believe I need to explain further, do I? Holmes _planned_ on using Watson’s gun himself, and had to make sure he would bring it! This was premeditated!”

“Curse you, Wright.” Said Holmes, with no energy or force. It fell away, flat and stilted. If he was acting at being outraged, he was doing a terrible job.

The Judge stroked his beard. “Edgeworth, what do you have to say for the Defense’s assertion?”

“I… cannot the deny the possibility,” said Edgeworth. “However, I believe the defense has yet to prove their case.”

Athena leaned forward, bracing the desk with both arms as she did so. “Oh, come on! Why else would he ask Watson to bring a gun?”

“Have you forgotten who they believed they were chasing, Ms. Cykes?” Edgeworth wagged his finger. “This culprit already made one attempt on their lives. I can hardly fault Holmes for desiring a little insurance.”

“Urk.” With that whimper, all the spunk drained right out of Athena. “He’s right. It’s not exactly unreasonable to want a firearm present while chasing a known murderer, especially one who tried to kill you. Unless we can prove Holmes actually handled the firearm, we haven’t got a prayer here.”

_Hmmm. The gun itself is a dead end. The only prints they found were Watson’s._

“Hmmm…” The Judge’s head turned back and forth between the two benches. “I must agree with the prosecution. Mr. Holmes, it is still the opinion of this court your actions are... curiously suspicious, but none of these actions are tantamount to murder. If the defense cannot further substantiate their claim with solid evidence, you are free to go.”

“Yes, your honor.” At first, Holmes made no effort to move, perhaps hoping Wright would press the point, but there was nothing further to press. Edgeworth was right - with the exception of Sue’s scattered remains, the museum was completely bare.

_Wait a minute. Wait!_

It was too bare. _Suspiciously_ bare.

_Sue’s installation was still underway tonight. Shouldn’t something be left out still? Tools? Spare bolts? Something!_

“Woah there boss! You look like you’re about to shoot spikes out your head like a porcupine! What’re you thinking about in there?”

Phoenix probably should’ve been upset about the jibe at his hair, but all he wondered was  _can porcupines really shoot their quills?_ “Athena, look at all our pictures. Doesn’t it seem strangely bare for a place undergoing a massive construction effort?”

“I know! Watson and Sherlock both say they saw someone up there, but there’s no evidence at all!”

Phoenix placed his thumb on his chin, while his other hand held the second-floor photo, searching for answers. “Maybe that _is_ the evidence, Athena.”

“Wh… what?” Athena titled her head and raised her eyebrows. “I don’t get it.”

“I think something happened in here, something incriminating, and our true culprit hid all the evidence before the police arrived.”

Athena stood straight again. Her pupils bounced left and right, pondering the scenario herself. “That makes sense. But we can’t exactly present _nothing_ and claim it’s evidence, right?”

Phoenix nodded. “Right, we’d need to prove something was moved.”

The phone on the counter buzzed.

**Watching you think this hard is unbearable. - S.H.**

**Hurry it up. - S.H.**

**Figure it out. - S.H.**

_What do I do? Holmes is trying to lead me to something here, but I can’t tell what!_

Wright studied the photo once more. His eyes were drawn to the V-shaped object that resembled hedge clippers. Gears turned, but they didn’t click.

The Judge turned his attention to the defense’s bench. “Well, Mr. Wright? Do you have anything to present to substantiate your claims Holmes attempted to murder Doctor Olgist? Or must we accept this is yet another one of your bluffs?”

The gears stopped turning.

There’d been an unspoken assumption this entire proceeding that Sue’s collapse was the result of an accident, but what if there’d been nothing accidental about it?

 _It’s a long shot, but on the other hand, it’s a shot._ “Not yet, your honor, but if Ms. Skye is still within the Meadow, I believe we will soon. Tell me Edgeworth, has your forensics team lifted prints off this object in the bottom right of the photo?”

“What? The bolt cutters?”

 _Bolt cutters, you say?_ With that information, Wright became convinced he was on the right track.

“The defense insists these bolt cutters be dusted immediately!”

“Oh for goodness - to what end, Wright?” Said Edgeworth.

The Judge set down his gavel. “Hmmm…. Where are you going with this, defense?”

“Your Honor, If the defense is correct, the fingerprints on these bolt cutters could shift our entire perception of this case!”

“Very well. Mr. Edgeworth, if you would?”

Edgeworth retrieved a phone from his pocket. “Of course, your honor. I propose another recess while I inform Ms. Skye.”

 

* * *

 

**Wright is waffling on about some bolt cutters. Top of the stairs, second floor. Fingerprint analysis requested. - M.E.**

**And what did we learn about rushing my investigations? - E.S.**

Court **is in recess. We expect results in twenty minutes. - M.E.**

**That’s a “no” then :p -E.S.**

**No Emoji on company phones. -M.E.**  
**.**  
**Or any phones. - M.E.**

**With me. - M.E.**

**Ever. - M.E.**

 

* * *

 

“Ahem," Edgeworth said as cleared his throat. "After twenty minutes and deliberate emoji abuse, Ms. Skye has results.” Edgeworth thumbed through options on his phone as he spoke.

Wright crossed his arms, trying to channel the confidence his younger employees often conveyed. “And did she lift any prints?”

Edgeworth squinted as he tried to read something on his screen. Soon he produced a case from the inner pocket of his jacket, opened it with a flick of the wrist, and slid a pair of glasses onto his face, all without setting down the phone.

Two seconds later, his face went white. “Wha - what is the meaning of this!?”

“Well? Whose prints are they, Miles?”

Edgeworth set down his phone and stared directly at Wright. “The prints on this pair of bolt cutters belong to.. Sherlock Holmes.”

Even Athena jumped in place as he said it.

##### SUBMITTED INTO EVIDENCE - Bolt Cutters

The courtroom erupted. Wright turned to see Athena shouting something in his direction, but her voice was lost in the din of loud conversations and exclamations.

The judge pounded the gavel repeatedly until the voices were reduced to a low whisper. “This is - is inconceivable! What does this mean? Did Sherlock arrive early to assist with the installation?”

 _Um, no, Your Honor. Quite the opposite._ Wright slammed his hands on the bench. “I’ll tell the court what it means - we’ve finally uncovered the truth behind why Sue fell to pieces.”

“Careful, Wright,” said Holmes. “You’d be wise to leave this alone.”

The phone buzzed.

**Do not leave it alone. - S.H.**

_I figured._ “I’d like to draw the court’s attention to the second-floor photo.” Once Edgeworth had his copy in hand, Wright continued. “Note the metal cord dangling from the brace. The cut looks rather clean for an accident, wouldn’t you say?”

“Urk.” Edgeworth’s fingers tightened around the bottom of his copy of the same photo, crumpling the area around his grip.

“The Defense’s interpretation of the facts is this; Sherlock Holmes _did_ run to the second floor in pursuit of the true culprit, only to realize John Watson’s life was in danger.”

Edgeworth winced again. “Your client’s testimony - “

Wright nodded. “That’s right. In the detention center, John Watson claimed he saw a figure on the second floor as well. I believe Holmes saw this figure as they approached, and in an attempt to save Watson and Olgist, grabbed this pair of bolt cutters and brought Sue crashing down to ruin the real culprit’s shot!”

“Damn you, Wright!” Yelled Sherlock, as he pounded one hand on the wooden stand in front of him. The other arm remained shoved deep into a jacket pocket.

Wright, well aware what that other hand was up to, looked at his phone waiting for the buzz.

**Amicable work, Wright. - S.H.**

**Still need more. - S.H.**

_How? You didn’t do it, so it’s not like you left evid-_

The phone buzzed.

 **I left evidence to incriminate myself, evidence** **you have yet to deduce. - S.H.**

**Honestly. Thought you would have had it by now. - S.H.**

**It’s th** **\- S.H.**

The message ended there. Sherlock must've hit send as The Judge startled Sherlock with a question. “Sherlock, is this true? Did you cut down this priceless fossil?”

“The Meadow won Sue in an auction for 2.4 million dollars. _Hardly_ priceless.”

“Answer the question, Mr. Holmes!”

“Yes. I did. It is as the defense says.”

Edgeworth slammed his hands into his desk to keep himself from falling over. “ _In-inconceivable!_ What kind of farce-” Edgeworth stood up straight, straightened his ascot, and regained his composure. “Shocking as this may be, all it proves is Sherlock Holmes was indeed on the second floor as he claims.”

“And what of the mysterious shooter?” Asked the Judge. “While the defense has not presented proof he exists, It would seem Holmes’ actions suggest he reacted to such a party.”

“I… urk.” Edgeworth folded his arms. He pondered. And when they unfolded, he returned to his usual confident self. “Oh? Do they?”

_Uh oh._

“The prosecution has a simpler explanation. Holmes realized the same thing his companion did - that the Olgist standing in front of them may not be, in fact, the true Doctor Olgist. Out of fear for his companion’s safety, he cascaded a 2.4 million dollar fossil to the ground. This scenario explains the facts without the use of poltergeists, _or_  the assumption Sherlock pulled the trigger on a pistol lacking his prints _._ ”

_This… isn’t good._

Edgeworth continued. “Just because Holmes sabotaged this poor prelapsarian creature’s stability does not mean he’s the one who fired the gun!”

 _Argh! Every time!_ Wright did feel ready to shoot quills out of his head now. There was another shooter there, _there had to be_ , but without any concrete evidence, Edgeworth could continuously place all blame on Watson or Holmes.

_Think Wright, think._

The Judge nodded. “Well Wright? I will remind you, you have already formally accused Sherlock Holmes of murder. Unless you have evidence to suggest he meant harm to anyone other than a fossil, or evidence to substantiate the claim of another party, I will render my verdict and declare this trial is over.”

Athena pounded a fist into her palm, beaming with a smile. “Alright boss, now we’ve got ‘em!”

 _Um... what's gotten into her?_ “Athena, what’re you talking about? We have nothing!”

“Oh, we _definitely_ do.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean…” Athena flicked her earring. “I don’t know _what_ exactly, but Sherlock’s too clever to insist we call him to the stand without leaving something behind to incriminate himself in this crime scene, right? He said as much in his last text. We just have to figure out what!”

_She’s right. Sherlock must’ve done something to this crime scene. It’s all about asking myself the right questions. Think, Wright. Think. We know this whole scenario isn’t true - I believe in Sherlock's innocence. But Sherlock asked us to put him on the stand! He must’ve prepared something to buy us another day!_

_Okay, instead of wondering, “what evidence did Sherlock leave behind”, let's consider "what would Sherlock have needed to do to stage the scene if he really was the shooter”?_

Wright thumbed back through all the evidence in the court record so far. The Crime Scene Photos, the exterior photo, the service pistol, the autopsy report, the bullet, the casings. The answer had to be here.

Wright studied the first crime scene photo. He noted Watson’s position, slumped against the wall, the pistol in hand, two casings on the ground next to him.

Then he had it.

 _Bingo._ “Your honor! The defense is prepared to present evidence.”

Holmes shot him a few glances, seemingly surprised for the first time today. _Don’t worry, tough guy. I figured it out… I hope._

“Very well, Mr. Wright. Let’s see what you have to show.”

“It’s simple, your honor. In fact, we had all we needed from the start. Let's suppose for a moment we were correct in our assessment Holmes used Watson’s service pistol. If that’s the case, it would stand to reason he’s one who arranged Watson in this incriminating way, which means he would’ve placed the pistol in his hands.”

Edgeworth pounded his desk. “Have you forgotten already, Wright? The only prints on that pistol belong to John Watson!”

Wright nodded... and then smiled. He tapped the photo of the crime scene twice. “Yes, but that wasn’t the only thing Holmes had to rearrange. Remember, the L9A1 ejects used casings. If Holmes had fired it from the second floor balcony, then the casings would’ve landed next to him up there as well. In order to stage the scene as we see it in this picture, he would’ve had to pick up the casings and plant them by John’s side!”

Wright leaned back and folded his arms. “So tell me, Edgeworth. Did your forensics team take prints off the casings?”

Edgeworth shrugged and lightly chuckled. “What kind of foolish question is that? Of _course_  they did! Ema Skye is the queen of dusting pointless objects.”

“And what were the results?”

Edgeworth blinked.

He got out his phone again.

 

* * *

 

**Wright wants prints off the casings. - M.E.**

**The casings? - E.S.**

**Yes, the casings. Did you dust them? - M.E.**

**Huh. Never thought to dust the casings. - E.S.**

**Now would be a good time. - M.E.**

**On it. - E.S.**

**Well? - M.E.**

**Uh - E.S.**

**“Uh?” U** **h** **what? - M.E.**

**You sitting down? - E.S.**

 

* * *

 

“Well, Edgeworth?” asked the Judge. “What are the results?”

Edgeworth went a ghastly white as soon as his phone buzzed. Wright tried to stop himself from smiling, but there was no helping it. _I knew it. We’ve got it now!_

“Prints on the casings are a match for... our witness, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Whaaaaat!?” Screamed the Judge, for once so caught up in his own shock he did nothing to silence the cavalcade of noises.

Athena blinked, shocked motionless. “ _Que_?  _That's_ where his prints were? Good job, boss!”

 _I don’t know what the full story is here yet, but I'm sure I know how Holmes wants us to use this to save Watson._ _This one simple action destroyed Edgeworth’s case!_

Edgeworth’s calm demeanor completely eroded. HIs clenched fist rested on the bench, practically pulsing in frustration. “This is absurd! How do you manage it, Wright! How do you manage to denigrate every case into - into - into _Panem et circenses!?_ ”

_Uh, what? I broke Edgeworth’s theory so hard, he’s speaking Greek now._

Athena’s eyebrows drooped. “Uh, not sure you want me to translate that one for ya, Boss.”

As the cascade of voices in the room began to subside, the Judge regained control of the proceedings. “H-Holmes, please explain why-”

Edgeworth cut him off. “Yes, Holmes, what _are_ your prints doing on these casings?”

Holmes offered no reaction. He stood quietly in the courtroom, silent for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he said, “I will testify no further.”

Edgeworth pounded his desk. “ _Holmes_. I don’t know how you do it across the pond, but you are currently being accused of _murder_.”

“I am aware and my answer remains the same.”

Edgeworth’s eyes burned with rage. _If there was some legal form of murder, I have serious doubts Holmes would be alive right now._

The Judge turned his attention towards Wright. “Very well. If Holmes will not testify, the onus falls you, defense. What are his prints doing on casings?”

Wright nodded once and leaned forward. “Of course. Our theory is this; before Holmes ran upstairs, he swiped Watson’s firearm. He used the pistol to shoot doctor Olgist from the second-floor landing. Then, once Watson was unconscious, he went about setting up the scene for his own flatmate to take the fall.”

Wright paused and stood up upright, holding up the crime scene photo. “But, after arranging the scene, he realized he’d forgotten about a key piece of evidence - the casings, still sitting on the second-floor landing. If they were found up there, it would raise too many questions about the scene. So Holmes moved the casings next to John. In his haste to arrange the scene, he remembered to wipe the gun, but not the casings themselves!”

Edgeworth clutched his ascot. “This is - this is preposterous!”

“Damn you, Wright!” Exclaimed Holmes. “Damn you to - to hell!” His outburst would've been much more believable if he could've wiped the smirk off his face.

The Judge shook his head. “To think Sherlock Holmes would betray John Watson. Truly, this is a tragedy! We've traveled a long road today, and it is the opinion of this court we have finally uncovered a truly unfortunate end. Unless the prosecution has further objections, I am prepared to end today's proceedings... and render my verdict.”

 _Verdict!? Uh oh. Did - did I make our sham of a case too well?_ The plan was never to _actually_ put Holmes away for Watson’s murder.

Athena's fingertips rested on her temples. “Uh, Boss? Any idea how we can pull this one back - without confessing to perjury?”

 _There’s only one person who’ll save us now_. Wright stared across the room at Edgeworth, trying his best to lock eyes and send a message. _C’mon, Edgeworth, you’ve got to save us! You’ve never let me take an easy win! Don’t start now._

Wright lowered his hand onto the bench and raised his pointer finger, slightly, and wiggled it in Edgeworth’s direction. _C’mon, Miles._

It took some time for Edgeworth to snap out of his shock, but in time, he noticed the wavering finger. His eyes traced up his arm, finally reaching Wright’s gaze, where he hoped he could see desperation.

“It seems the prosecution has no objections. Very well. First, there is the matter of the defendant. In the murder of Doctor Olgist, this court finds the defendant, John Watson-” The Judge raised his gavel.

Edgeworth turned away from Wright’s gaze and pounded his desk. “Uh… Objection, your honor! I _object_ to ending these proceedings!”

The Judge paused with his Gavel still in the air. “Mr. Edgeworth, I expect these outbursts and interruptions from the defense, not you. What is the meaning of this?”

“I, uh…” Edgeworth’s eyes darted around his bench, taking in all the evidence.

_Please, Edgeworth, come up with something. It's up to you now, or the true culprit will get away with murder!_

Finally, Edgeworth’s eyes locked. Wright could see the connection forming, the confidence returning to his body, restoring his posture. All at once, he knew that man and his dumb, gorgeous flowing ascot would save the day.

“My objection, your honor, is that the defense’s case makes no sense. It contains a _massive_ contradiction!”

“It does?”

“Yes, your honor. If I may - " Edgeworth lifted a piece of paper up to his face. “I’d like to draw the court’s attention to the bolt cutters Holmes wielded to drop Sue.”

Wright crossed his arms. “And what about 'em, Miles?”

Edgeworth shot him a stern look. _Oof. Right. He doesn’t like being addressed by his first name in court._  Edgeworth continued. “Allow me to ask this, to either Holmes or the defense - how did Sherlock manage to shoot Doctor Olgist from the second-floor landing, _and_ cut down Sue’s supports?”

Holmes was quick to answer. “I refuse to testify.”

“Yes, I figured. Wright?”

Wright placed a finger under his chin. “Simple. He shot first Doctor Olgist, _and_ then cut Sue’s supports.”

“Wright. Please tell me you don’t think so little of your own client. Do you truly think John Watson would simply stand idly by while Holmes began the laborious task of chopping away at metal, especially after Sherlock shot the man in front of him?”

“Uh, hold on - so he must've cut Sue’s supports first!”

Edgeworth chuckled. “If that were the case, then why shoot Doctor Olgist’s unconscious body from the second-floor landing? Why not do it next to Watson and save himself the trouble? Furthermore, if Holmes had shot Olgist from the second-floor landing while he was face-down, the bullet would've have entered his body at a dramatically different angle!”

“Uh, what?” Edgeworth lost him on that one.

Across the way, Edgeworth sighed and produced his phone once more. He stepped out from behind his bench and paced across the courtroom.

_What’s he doing?_

Edgeworth stopped in front of Wright’s bench, still saying nothing. He dialed a number, tapped a button on the screen, and set the phone down next to Wright’s.

A name on the screen read Ema Skye.

 _“Miles? Aren’t you in court?”_ Ema's voice said. Feet shuffled around in the background, as did the din of distant conversations.  _Ah, he's put her on speakerphone._

“Indeed. Welcome back to the trial, Ms. Skye. Now, would you please explain to the Court - and by the Court, I mean Mr. Wright - why Doctor Olgist's wounds would be inconsistent with the evidence had he been lying prone while shot from the second floor?"

_“Just say ‘laying down,’ Edgeworth.”_

“Prone _is_ laying down. What more would you like? He was parallel to the floor?”

Wright saw a hornet’s nest being kicked in front of him. He stepped in to stop it before the swarm began. “Uh, we get it. The Defense acknowledges the victim was, uh… not. Standing.”

Edgeworth folded his arms and tapped a finger repeatedly, staring daggers at the phone. _Yikes, I don’t want to imagine what these performance reviews are like._

Edgeworth continued. “Very well. Please continue, Ema.”

_“To put it simply, Mr. Wright - taking the height of the second-floor landing into account, there’s simply no angle from which Holmes, Watson, or anyone else could’ve fired a bullet into Doctor Olgist and still have it penetrate below his right clavicle and shatter his floating rib. Such a wound is only possible if he was standing at the time he was shot. from that distance.”_

_Wright scratched the_ back of his head. “Uh, thanks. Ema.”

_"You’re welcome, I guess? I did blow up your case.”_

_Well, fortunately, I need my case blown up right now,_ thought Wright.

Edgeworth swiped his phone up off the desk and spoke as he returned to his bench. “So you see, your honor, defense, silent witness - the angle of the shot, as Wright proposes, is impossible. And, unless Watson has failed to develop a single survival instinct after serving as an active combatant, the other scenario is equally impossible. The facts of this case, as they stand now, bring us only to another contradiction.”

Miles had a point. Edgeworth’s contradiction was entirely valid - there’s no way Watson would simply stand still and wait for Sue to collapse on him, while Holmes laboriously chopped away at metal. Furthermore, Wright knew very well Watson already confessed he’d drawn his pistol and attempted to fire at another shooter. Unless Watson was also committing Perjury (which would bring the current amount of people committing Perjury in a single case up to four, making this a Perjury Party), there was never an opportunity for Holmes to handle the firearm.

“Hmmmm…” The judge stroked his beard. “It would seem we have come to an impasse. We’ve examined the evidence from every angle, and yet, we have more questions and fewer suspects than answers. How did Sherlock Holmes’ fingerprints end up on shell casings? What were the circumstances of Doctor Olgist’s murder? And how could Sherlock Holmes have been responsible for destroying a fossil and shooting a gun at seemingly concurrent times?”

_Phew, we did it. Good work, Miles._

Miles nodded in his direction with a slight smirk, as if he’d heard the mental compliment.

“At this time, I will suspend proceedings until 9 AM tomorrow. I expect both sides to fully investigate this matter further, and return with answers to this... impossible shooting.”

Edgeworth bowed, a single hand crossing his body with a flutter. “Of course, your honor. At this time, this prosecution further requests Sherlock Holmes be detained for questioning. As a proper suspect, this time.”

Holmes remained unshaken by anything that occurred - which, considering he’d staged the whole scene to take the fall, wasn’t surprising.  _This is exactly how Holmes expected the trial to end, wasn't it?_

Athena leaned forward. “He engineered all of this, didn’t he? I wonder how much of the crime scene he tampered with to save his friend...”

 _Holmes… what’s your game here?_ Regardless of why Holmes would risk his own future to save Watson, it was now clear why so little of this case had made sense - Holmes used what little time he had not to chase the mysterious figure but to tamper with evidence. _We need to question both Watson and Holmes about the state of the room before Sherlock's tampering... before the prosecution takes him in for questioning, ideally._

Suddenly, Wright recalled what happened once he placed Holmes on the stand in the first place. _If Watson will even talk to me, that is._

“Agreed, Prosecutor. The witness is yours. Holmes, whatever your reputation abroad, I cannot abide such silence, suspicion, and even _perjury_ in my Courtroom!”

Phoenix felt himself gulp. _If the Judge ever finds out the entire defense willingly committed perjury just now, I just might lose my badge a second time._

To his left, he noticed sweat dripping down Athena’s head. Athena glanced his way and must've recognized his own anxiety.  “You too, huh boss? If we get caught, I’m blaming it all on _you_. You’ve had a full career! Mine’s just getting started!“

 _You’ll always have_ work _as a Magician’s assistant_. As he thought the words, Wright suddenly felt Apollo’s absence more than ever.

“Bailiff, please escort Mr. Holmes to the Detention Center for further questioning. Court is adjourned!”

The Judge pounded his gavel. By some miracle, they’d survived a harrowing first day in court.

Now for the real challenge. Tomorrow, they’d have to do more than survive. They would need to solve Doctor Olgist’s impossible murder, prove the existence of another shooter, and discover the true identity of this Pembroke Poltergeist.

And, if his previous cases were any indication, he’d have to solve the murders of Chelsea Manning and Milo Donovan to do it.

There was much work ahead, and little time to get it done.


	7. Post-Trial, Day 1 - The Investigation Continues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watson is no longer a suspect in the murder of Doctor Archie Olgist, but now Sherlock Holmes has taken his place. Wright and Athena prepare for their first opportunity to properly investigate the case.

#### DISTRICT COURTHOUSE NO. 2

#### MARCH 3RD, 4:55 PM

 _Just once, I’d like an easy case. Argue out of a ticket. File a restraining order._ Wright finished packing up his suitcase and walked briskly down the hall, towards the courtroom door. The gallery had already been cleared. The bailiffs took Holmes away at the conclusion of the case, as the new primary suspect in Olgist's murder. Athena and Wright were the last ones out.

They’d soon have to walk through a sea of eager faces, full of reporters and fans eager to hear news of today’s trial. Wright found it somewhat depressing - despite the many twists and turns his career had taken, no case had ever come with this much publicity. 

But, as with all bitter ironies that seemed to define his life, he’d have to pass on the first chance he’d ever had to glad-hand among a crowd. They needed to get to the Meadow Museum, sort through bones, and deduce where Watson's shots ended up. 

Wright placed a hand on the courthouse door and pressed. _If we find both bullets, we can turn the prosecution's case on its head._ It would prove once and for all neither of Watson’s shots found their mark, and the bullet pulled from Olgist had to come from another source. And if that was the case, the court would have to admit someone else-

Wright’s train of thought came to an abrupt stop as a fist struck his face.

His back collided with the cold floor before he even realized he’d been knocked off his feet. Wright leaned up to see his attacker, his right hand propping him up while the other nursed a sore jaw. _Yeowch._

He looked up to see Watson, closed fist still shaking with fury. “What were you doing in there?! I told you - he’s my _friend,_ Wright!”

Athena knelt down to help Wright to his feet. “Doctor, please! You've every right to be upset, but - “

Watson put up an open hand, cast his eyes to the floor, and caught his breath. When the hand came down, he was calm once more… but his face remained stern and serious. It was the kindest fury Wright had ever seen. “Miss Cykes, I apologize, but there’s simply no way I could further retain your agencies services.” 

Watson stared directly into Wright’s eyes. “Relay the message to your boss.”

Watson left. The courtroom door slammed behind him. He didn’t look back.

Athena patted off Wright’s shoulders. “ _Mon dieu._ Is this the first time we’ve lost a client after a successful defense? Oh, and by the way boss, Watson says we’re fired.”

Wright finished patting his jaw. He moved it around a little, testing his flexibility. _Good punch. At least everything seems to be in working order._ “Yeah, I got his message, Athena.”

“So… what now?” Athena said as she helped Wright to his feet.

“We head to the detention center, of course. We have a meeting with our new client, Sherlock Holmes.”


	8. Investigation, Day 1 - A New Client

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Watson may have been none too thrilled with Wright's defense strategy, but as John Watson is no longer the prosecution's primary suspect, Wright doesn't mind. Instead, it's off to the detention center once more to meet with a new client - Sherlock Holmes.

#### DETENTION CENTER

#### MARCH 3RD, 5:15 PM

Wright walked into the detention center only to once again be confronted by an angry Dr. Watson, who was already meeting with Sherlock.

Watson stood up, shoved his arm out, and sent the folding chair skittering across the floor as he shoved it aside. Even Sherlock jumped back in his own seat on the other side of the glass. For the first time since Wright had met the steely-eyed baker street detective (which he now realized was only six hours ago), he saw the first sign of surprise.

A ten-minute walk to the detention center hadn’t had much of a calming effect on Watson. He pointed a finger towards the door. “Get out! Go!”

Wright stood still in the doorway, unsure how to react. Even Athena, the one who usually knew better how to deal with out-of-control feelings, offered nothing other than a bowed head and sad eyes. _Can’t really blame her. It’s not every day we get one client arrested to save another._

A hand pounded on glass twice. A dull thudding reverberated through the detention center. Holmes smacked his palm against the thick sheet, again and again, until all eyes were on him. “For God’s Sake, John - Wright, hand him your mobile.”

Wright nodded and fished the trusty blue brick from his pocket.

Watson protested. “I don’t need to - “

Sherlock began speaking again, which was enough to silence him. “Yes John, you do. Evidence, _data!_ there are no substitutes.”

John stared at the phone in Wright’s hand. His head tilted left. Tilted right. With a frustrated sigh and a wiggle of the head, he finally gave in and snatched it away.

Holmes nodded, satisfied with John’s decision. “Now, text history.”

John cycled through Wright’s phone with a single thumb, flicking up and down. He glanced up at Wright with a quizzical look. "But this is-" Then shot a look to Sherlock. Then back to Wright. “But - But - “

Holmes spoke up. “There, you see? May we move on?”

“But I-”

Wright held out his hand, hoping to receive his phone... but Watson continued to stare dumbfounded.

Holmes pounded the glass again. “For God's - John, we do not have the luxury of time.”

“He’s right,” said Wright. “I’m sorry we deceived you, John, but it was the only way to buy us time for a proper investigation. And I couldn’t very well announce in court we were all committing perjury to save you.”

John handed back the phone, calmer than before. His eyes still seemed to stare off into nothing. After a short while, he nodded. “I understand now, Mr. Wright. I… I apologize for my outburst, and for - “

Wright motioned to the red, swollen area of his face.

John nodded more. “Yeah, and, um - that.”

Wright smiled. “It’s okay, Doctor. Given the circumstances, I’m lucky it was only one punch. So… are we okay then?”

John smiled too, but it was an awkward smile. Plastered on too fast, beaming too wide, given how upset he was moments ago. “Of course, Wright, now that I know the truth I - I’m not mad at you at all.” He beamed again... and then turned to Holmes as the smile vanished. “But I’m _furious_ at you!”

John leaned over the detention center bench. “You were _texting!_ In a courtroom! To everyone _but_ me, it would seem! I thought we agreed - you don’t shut me out anymore. How many times have you left me dumbfounded, Sherlock? Clueless? If I’m a part of your plans, I need to know what the plan _is!_ ”

“John-”

“I mean, what reason could you possibly have to leave me twisting while you- you- ”

“John!” Shouted Sherlock. “Tell me, where is your mobile now?”

He blinked twice as he pondered the question. “It’s - in evidence!” he shouted.

Sherlock nodded. “Yes. Taken from you. Immediately, just as they took mine moments ago. I spent the last few minutes in court deleting my text history. Now tell me, John, what good would a text that reads 'Hello, I am knowingly lying on the stand' do for your case, especially when your phone is bagged up on the prosecutor's bench? Or would you prefer next time you’re accused of murder, I started a fire on the witness stand and send smoke signals?”

John opened his mouth as if to say something, but all he said was, “huh.” All the fury and rage John unleashed came to a screeching halt. 

Then he sat down, eyes staring off into nowhere as he re-assessed the days' proceedings. "Huh," he said again in a slightly higher tone.

Holmes sighed and glanced at a clock on the wall behind him. “Well, that was a wonderful waste of five invaluable minutes.”

_The famous baker street detective always finds a way to be colder._

There were many things Wright expected to see next. He expected Watson to lecture Holmes on the tumultuous emotions he’d been put through in hushed tones. He expected Holmes to complain about the pointlessness of human emotions all together, which would only further frustrate Watson. He expected the two of them to get loud once more, in a confrontation that only ended with Holmes being pulled away and John escorted out of the station.

In perhaps one of the strangest things Wright had seen since meeting the duo from Baker Street, none of those things occurred at all. Instead, all animosity between the two evaporated in an instant. The two of them shared a knowing glance, Watson nodded, and suddenly it was all business. 

Watson straightened up in his seat and said, “What next?”

Athena and Wright got in close, crowding around the detention center window. Sherlock continued, now with everyone's rapt attention. “In a few moments, the prosecution will arrive.”

“Why?” asked Wright.

“Because I asked him to. Now, to more important matters - before he arrives, Wright, allow me to explain what actually occurred the other night, so you may better discern true evidence from my fabrications.”

Wright prepared himself to take mental notes of Holmes’ account of events. It dawned on him as he did so how much easier his job would be if everyone told the truth the first time in his conversations.

“At no point did I handle John’s firearm. Once our shadowy poltergeist departed and Sue collapsed, I heard sirens in the distance and knew the scene below would point to John as the only suspect - so I manipulated the scene. I picked up the casings and set them down to leave my prints, and re-arranged John’s unconscious self before law enforcement entered.”

Wright frowned. If this was true, one of the most crucial pieces of evidence in court today was now worthless. “If you tampered with the scene, Holmes, then... the Crime Scene photo in the court record isn’t authentic at all. We’re back to square one.”

Wright heard the unmistakable chirp of Widget. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the colors on Athena’s necklace flicker to a neutral face on a purple background. Athena herself remained upbeat, but Widget revealed she shared Wright’s disappointment.

If Holmes had any feelings about committing yet another charge of perjury, he didn’t show it. “Please. If your court system wasn’t so reliant upon rhetoric, sophistry, and conjecture, I would’ve left it alone. The fact I am on this side of the glass is proof enough you agree my indictment was the only way to save John.”

Wright crossed his arms. He didn’t like it, and he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but Holmes was right - in the current state of The Law, this was the only way to ensure John received a fair trial. 

Holmes continued. “I requested John bring his firearm because Olgist expressed worries his life was already in danger. I ran Meadow as soon as I saw his messages. Judging his current deceased state, I suppose his reasons for being afraid were not without merit.”

“But, in addition to saving John, today’s theatrics accomplished greater goals. I left the courtroom in shackles, which assures our true assailant they’re safe from suspicion. If at any point you had _successfully_ proven the possibility of another shooter in today’s trial, I have no doubt our ghastly friend would’ve fled the country. With confidence the court has failed to entertain such a premise, we’ve ensured their continued presence.”

Athena tiled her head. “Um, what?”

Watson nodded. “He’s saying the killer’s still here, right under our noses.”

Sherlock returned a nod. “Precisely. During your investigation today, someone among you will be our murderer. But, since I’ll be stuck in this damnable box for the evening, this rest is on you, Watson.”

The words didn't register at first. Watson simply looked at the group, determination in his eyes, nodding along with Sherlock's word. Then Watson suddenly reared back in his chair. “I’m - I'm sorry, on me?”

“Yes. You must be _me_ tonight. See _and_ observe. Collect _and_ analyze. Intuit _and_ deduce. Never one without the other.”

Wright frowned, but no one else seemed to notice. _I haven’t known these two long, but it sure seems like there’s only one Holmes in the world._

Holmes continued. “Deduce who the poltergeist is and reveal them in court, where they have no means of escape. Also, have they returned your mobile to you?”

John blinked and moved back in his chair. “Yes, when I entered to visit you. Why?”

“Give it to me,” Said Holmes, seemingly unaware a sheet of glass separated them.

“Why?” asked John again.

“Because I’m _bored_ , John. Bored!” Holmes slapped a hand against the glass again. 

“Well, I - I can’t exactly phase my mobile through solid glass, Holmes, but perhaps Wright knows a way to - “

Holmes interrupted. “I don’t want Mr. Wright’s mobile, John. You’ve seen it. It was manufactured and sold before data plans existed, I will be unable to do any research on his - his _prelapsarian_ relic. Buy me an American mobile and bring it here.”

John looked to Wright and Athena with a stunned, almost embarrassed face. “Holmes, I - I can’t really hand you anything,”

“Find a way. Please. John - “

Watson leaned forward. “Holmes, it’s only a holding cell, not prison.”

“I _know_ that, John. That is the problem!” Holmes stopped and caught his breath. “I - I’ve no desire to spend a night alone with... myself.” 

Holmes’s hand still rested against the glass. John placed his own hand over it. “It’s one night, Sherlock. You had plenty of them without me before.”

Sherlock had a cold sweat about him. “Yes, and they were all worse nights,” he said.

_He was fearless facing a murder charge, but now... I guess everyone has their fears, even Sherlock Holmes._

A voice from the back of the detention center startled everyone. “I’m sure we’ll find ways to fill your time,” Said Edgeworth, his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway. “I’ll begin with a simple question - how did you get my number, and why are you… _blowing_ up my phone in the middle of a case?”

Athena groaned. “First tossin’ shade, now blowing up phones. Are you two going through your midlife crisis together? Do we need a group therapy session?”

Wright heard the words Athena said, but they went in and out. He was too busy processing what Edgeworth just said. “Wait, he was texting you too, Miles?”

Edgeworth finally ceased lingering in the doorway and stepped into the room. “Of course. Surely you noticed our stalwart detective typing away in full view of the Judge. Now, Holmes, I have many, many questions for you and little time. I must ask your entourage here to depart for now.”

John scooted his chair back and stood up. “We’re getting you out, Sherlock. Just - wait. Be patient.”

For once, Wright had no problem being ejected from the Detention Center early. They needed to flip the Meadow Museum upside down for clues. 

And it was a big museum. 

They’d need a lot of time to flip it.

As the three of them turned to leave, Edgeworth spoke up once more. “Not you, Wright. Your presence is necessary here as well.”

Wright gulped. _I really, really hope Sherlock deleted his text history in time._ “O-of course.” Wright nodded, putting on his best poker face. No need to panic yet, not until he knew for sure he’d be facing a perjury charge. “Athena, take Watson and start investigating. I’ll catch up later.”

Athena punched a balled fist into her hand. “You got it, Boss! Hurry it up, okay?”

Wright nodded and smiled, working hard to project confidence while panicking voices filled his head.


	9. Investigation, Day 1 - Outside The Meadow Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Wright tied up at the detention center, Athena and John take the lead on the investigation. The Meadow Museum awaits.

#### MEADOW MUSEUM, EXTERIOR

#### MARCH 3RD, 6:01 PM

Athena arrived at the Meadow to the familiar sight of patrol cars and a police line. _Wright thrashed their investigation in court so bad, they’re probably dedicating more resources over here today to save face. Poor Ema. I hope she didn't take too much of the blame._

Behind the police line and up the wide cement steps, The dome-shaped entrance to the Meadow Museum awaited. Four Corinthian columns lined the entrance, and two massive double doors were already ajar. Through the entryway, Athena could see officers and forensic investigators shuffling about, visible for only moments at a time as they rushed by. 

“Huh,” said Watson, “So this is what the front looks like.”

Athena frowned in confusion. _Oh, that’s right! He entered through the back, and left unconscious in an ambulance._ “Why’d you smash through a window anyway?”

John shook his head. “ _I_ never smashed the window. It was already smashed - pre-smashed - by the time I arrived.”

Athena tilted her head, and did what Wright had always trained her to do upon receiving a new piece of information; she ran the entire scenario through her head. _Holmes arrived before him. Maybe he smashed the window?_ “So... how’d you cut your leg?”

John quietly laughed to himself, and scratched a spot just above his eyebrow. “I uh, cut myself on leftover shards. It's funny, in the dark, I - I didn't even notice them.”

 _Must’ve been in a hurry,_ Athena thought, knowing full well why. She could feel his heart crying out in desperation when he’d been dragged away in court, and that was only out of fear Sherlock would be indicted as a suspect. What might his emotions be running wild on a night he thought his friend was in mortal danger?

As they approached, a slim, tiny woman in A tan camouflage patterned raincoat leaned over the police barricade. A brown satchel rested on her hip. The raincoat's hood had a sewn-in duckbill cap. _Wow, that's pretty tacky... but functional for keeping rain off your face, I guess?_ She pushed a pair of round spectacles further up her face as they slipped.

“Excuse me ma’am,” a police officer said, “but you need to stay back.”

The officer turned his back and left, but the woman remained undeterred. “Nonsense!” she screamed as she leaned further over the barricade. “I told you, I need to check on Sue! Her dorsal vertebrae were _already_ in bad shape! Bad, I tell you!”

“Pardon me,” said Athena, “Are you um, with the museum?”

“N-not exactly,” she said as she turned to face Athena, finally taking her attention (and her shaking fist) off the officer. “I’m - oh my!” A hand rose to cover her face as she gasped. “It’s you! The lawyer from today, and - and John Watson himself!”

 _Oh boy._ “So... you were in court today?”

The woman stood up tall, shuffled her arm to reposition her bag strap, and righted her cap cowl. Athena always imagined archeologists as old, scholarly people, but the woman in front of her was young, vibrant, and certainly energetic. “Sure was! I knew there was no way you’d done it! Not _the_ John Watson. Love your blog.”

John scratched the back of his head. “Um, thank you, miss…?”

“Oh, of course. Sorry.” A lock of red hair slipped out from under the cap and covered her eye. She attempted to blow it away. When that didn’t work, she shoved it back under with her hand. “Dana Stapes.” 

_Dana Stapes?_ Athena had read that name earlier today, moments before she’d shoved a paper into her boss’s face while cuddling a rabbit. _I really have the best job._ “Of course! I saw your name in the paper. You-you’re the archeologist who discovered Sue!”

Stapes smirked and turned her gaze skyward. “I - suppose you could say I did that, yes. Feels like an eon ago now.”

John interjected. “Where’d you find her?”

“Northern Wyoming! 302 bones, all intact! I couldn’t believe it! It took our team three weeks to excavate her.”

“And when was that?” John asked.

“Four years, three months, and one hundred and eighteen days ago.”

Athena and John shared a glance, both feeling like they’d missed something.

“Uh, Miss Stapes?” Athena asked the obvious question for both of them. “Why’d it take four years for her to go on display?”

“Oh, right.” Dana placed a finger under her chin. “I suppose the average layman wouldn’t know - the most time-consuming part isn’t the dig, it’s all the cleaning and preparation. Remember, these bones haven’t been touched for millions of years. Literally! _Millions!_ It’s slow and delicate work preparing a fossil for display, so you can imagine why, given all the excitement and collapsing -” Dana cast a longing glance towards the open doors she wasn’t permitted through, then sighed. “Why I’m so worried about M.M.N.H. 1018.”

Athena blinked.

John leaned over and whispered into her ear. “Do you feel like you understand everything she’s saying and then suddenly-”

“Suddenly it’s just gibberish?” Athena whispered back. “Yeah, I’m getting that too.”

John nodded, seemingly comforted that for once he wasn’t the only one baffled in the room.

Athena asked another obvious question. “Pardon me, Dana, but what is M.M.N.H. 1018?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She sighed. “M.M.N.H. 1018 is Sue’s official designation. The numbers are her numerical classification, while the letters designate where the specimen resides.”

“Meadow Museum of National History,” John said out loud. “Huh. Makes sense now.”

Fascinating as all this was, Athena couldn’t help but feel they’d ended up _way_ off track. _Uh, we all do remember someone's dead, right?_ “Did you know Doctor Olgist well, Dana?”

She nodded, her duckbilled smock covering her face as it bobbed. “Of course! I was one of his Grad students. We’ve worked together for ten years now. We’ve made, um... many discoveries together.”

The noise hit. A loud static, one Athena had known well all her life, overwhelmed her senses. The discord in her voice was so strong, Athena practically felt herself tumble backward. 

The static vanished. John noticed her sudden collapse and moved to catch her, but Athena got ahold of herself in time. She stabilized before a loss of balance sent her to the floor. She did her best to stand up and act like it was all intentional. _What was that all about?_

“Miss Cykes? Are you okay?” Asked Dana.

“Yeah, sorry. Just - got dizzy there for a second. Too much running today, maybe.” Athena learned a long time ago that just because she could hear the disharmony in someone’s voice, it didn’t always mean they’d appreciate being told to their face they were lying about their feelings-- not without evidence, anyway. “And how are you handling his, you know, murder?”

Stapes blew another lock of hair away from her face. Yet again, it didn’t work. “As well as anyone could. He was a friend. A, um, a... trusted colleague.”

The static pulsed. Discord hit Athena again, like a wave across her ears. She could see John observing her in his periphery, but this time he made no motion.

“Any idea who might’ve wanted to kill him?” Asked John.

She shrugged. “Honestly? I haven’t a clue. The world of archeology isn’t _nearly_ as exciting as your adventures, Doctor Watson. But when I heard who they’d arrested... well, I just knew it was impossible.”

Athena paused on that statement. _Knew it was impossible._ How did she know? That, coupled with the intense waves of discordant feelings in her heart whenever Olgist came up, and Stapes seemed like an easy first suspect. 

“Could you both do me a favor?” Stapes said. “They won’t let me in, but I really just want to know -“

John held out an open hand. It seemed he already knew what she was going to suggest. “Don’t worry, Miss Stapes. I’ll take some pictures of Sue - or what’s left of her - in there.”

“Oh, thank you!” She flung her arms around him. 

John did not return her hug, and in fact, seemed rather uncomfortable with the whole thing. “I - uh - yes.” He muttered. 

Once she was done, John gently pushed her away.

“Sorry,” she said, “It’s just not often one gets an opportunity to hug John Watson.”

“We’ll be back, miss Stapes,” John said with all the enthusiasm of someone who did not, in fact, want to come back.

They squeezed through the barrier and began ascending the steps. “Miss Cykes, do you have a medical problem I should be aware of?” John asked. “Vertigo, perhaps?”

Athena smiled to herself. _I wish._ “ _non_ , nothing like that, Doctor. Just... It’s hard to explain. For now, all you need to know is I have a strong hunch miss Stapes down there isn’t telling the truth.”

“That's certainly possible. Or...” John said, “The Dana we spoke to isn’t actually the real Dana Stapes.”

Athena nodded. She hadn’t considered it before, but perhaps the discordant tones overwhelming her senses weren’t a result of Dana lying, but a result of someone lying while in disguise. Still, hadn’t Sherlock and Wright discussed how the poltergeist used service industry disguises? Disguises, where you _wouldn't_ , have to answer complicated questions? _Famous archeologist sure seems like one high profile, risky persona to put on._

Athena tried not to think on it too much now - evidence would guide her to the truth. If Dana wasn't who she said she was, the crime scene would make it clear.

Athena and John entered the doors of the museum.


	10. Investigation, Day 1 - Inside The Meadow Museum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena and John enter the Meadow Museum and finally get a chance to survey what remains of Sue. With some luck, hope, and a wish, they hope to find evidence Ms. Skye's forensic team overlooked to save Sherlock.

#### MEADOW MUSEUM: SUE'S DISPLAY, FIRST FLOOR

#### MARCH 3RD, 6:13 PM

John steadied his phone while kneeling, snapping pictures of Sue’s scattered bones. Sue's collapse had reached far and wide across the Meadow Museum's lobby. Ribs had rolled as far as the walls. “It’s funny,” he said, “I remember hearing her fall apart, but I have no memory of the mess after.”

Sue’s remains rested where they fell, surrounded by police tape on either side of the entrance to discourage further tampering. The floor of the museum was black and white marble tiles, which probably wasn't a great surface for Sue’s delicate bones to bounce across.

Athena heard feet shuffling above them. Every now and then Athena spotted Ema’s white coat on the second-floor balcony. No doubt her team was busy upending the entire second floor in search of the missing bullets.

“Okay John,” Athena said as she pounded a fist into her open palm, “ _Allons y!_ What would Holmes do now?”

“If I were Sherlock...” John stood up. He walked into the center of the room, in the center of the piles of bones strewn about. “I would stand here, right here, close my eyes, ignore everyone else around me for three minutes... and suddenly snap back to reality with the whole thing solved.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I’d be a _completely_ insufferable git while I did it.”

Athena smiled. John feigned irritation as he spoke, but she felt nothing but joy in his words as he said it.

John paced in a circle, his shoes squeaking on the marble as he spun into position. His feet came to a stop. He closed his eyes and focused, hard. His forehead furrowed. His eyelids buckled under immense pressure. Hands stood steady at his side.

“Um, Doctor? What are’ya doing?”

“Trying to think like Sherlock.”

Athena cocked her head to the side, a single finger on her chin. “How’s it working out?”

John clenched his fists. His eyelids convulsed.

Athena placed a hand on her hips. _So not great then?_ She watched John continue to struggle to summon up the sharp intellect and observation that made Sherlock the thing of legend she’d read about so often on John’s blog, but now, sitting here, watching John try to live up to that legend, she began to ponder something else. It wasn’t “the official blog of Sherlock Holmes.” It was _John Watson’s_ blog. How much of the Sherlock in his stories was the master of perception, a man who could strut to into a room and know where you’ve been in the past two weeks, and how much of it was the man John saw in him instead?

John’s eyes snapped open as he shook his head in frustration. “I...I can’t. I’m not Sherlock.”

 _None of us are._ “So... maybe don’t be. How would John Watson solve this murder?”

John nodded. “I would - hmm.” John glanced left and right. Then he marched across the room, towards the long hallway that led to the rear entrance... and then paced right back to the same spot he'd just left.

“Um, Dr. Watson? Oh, I get it! You just needed to stretch your legs a bit.”

“No, I'm uh, I'm reenacting. I stood here.” He motioned to his spot in the center of the floor as he carefully scooted bones aside, just next to the base of the statue. “Olgist was there, just underneath Sue.” He motioned to the base itself, where only portions of Sue's legs remained. “And from here-” John pointed up towards the second-floor balcony. Athena moved further into the room to follow his finger. Above them she only saw Ema’s white lab coat. Ms. Skye was lost in conversation, but they couldn’t see with who from below. “-From here, I _know_ I saw someone draw for a gun, right where Ms. Skye is now. I held mine up-”

“-And fired." Athena finished.

“Right.” John held up his other hand, bracing an invisible firearm. “Any bullets I fired _have_ to be up there. There’s no other path they could take.”

Athena nodded, agreeing with Dr. Watson's deduction. As John walked through the field of bones like a minefield, no doubt trying to avoid incurring the future wrath of Dana Stapes, Athena noticed something by his foot particularly un-bonelike. Whatever it was, it was brown, frayed, and draped around the base of the statue in a full circle. It’d been hidden by the bones until Watson had nudged them aside. “Hey John! What is that next to you?”

He glanced down. “Looks like... rope?”

 _Rope? What’s rope doing here?_ Athena pressed in on Widget, activating her holographic touchscreen. She had Widget snap a picture and added it to her NOTES application.

“W-wow. That’s - that's an _elaborate_ camera. You think this is important, then?”

Athena nodded, one hand still manipulating her floating screen. “Right now, I’m not ruling anything out.”

Dr. Watson pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and studied both sides, suddenly unimpressed. "You know, maybe I should've let _you_ take pictures for Dana."

##### ADDED TO COURT RECORD - Rope.

“Hey Ema!” Athena yelled as she shut off her screen.

Ema Skye broke off from her conversation, turned around, and leaned over the balcony to get a better look. “Athena! Hey, where's Mr. Wright?”

“With Edgeworth. We're Investigating without him today! Do you know if rope was a part of Sue’s installation?”

Ema shook her head. “ _No way!_ The armature is all metal bracing. Maybe they used it to hoist her bones into position?”

No one offered an answer. Watson shook his head, unconvinced, but Athena didn’t know enough about museum installations to have an opinion at all. All she knew was this seemed like an unusual place to find rope. “Hey Ema,” Athena said, “Tell Edgeworth he better watch out tomorrow when you see him, because I’m pretty sure Watson just found _both_ his bullets!”

Ema smirked. “Oh really? Well why don’t you two come join us, and we’ll find out if he was right?”


	11. Investigation, Day 1 - Ema Skye's Investigation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena and John meet up with forensic detective Ema Skye, who's eager to share her findings from a proper, thorough investigation.

#### MEADOW MUSEUM: INTERIOR, SECOND FLOOR

#### MARCH 3RD, 6:24 PM

Athena and John stood on the second-floor balcony, overlooking the scattered bones below. Ema was wrapping up a conversation a few feet away with one Patrolman and a tall, blue-haired woman in a dark jumpsuit. A cap on her head said “MEADOW” in bold, white letters. _Museum security maybe?_

John leaned over the balcony. At first glance, Athena thought perhaps he was taking in the mess his shootout made, but upon closer observation, she realized he wasn’t really looking at anything. His gaze was distant, on nothing. His mind somewhere else. 

She took up a spot next to him, arms on the banister. “Hey, John? _Ca va?_ ”

John leaned up. “I’m sorry?”

“how are you. In French.”

John blinked. "An hour ago I punched your boss.”

“Yeah, I saw. As punches go, it looked like a good one.”

John pounded the railing with his fist. “I’m trying to understand... why’d he do it? We _had_ him. Sherlock had him! If he was right there-” John pointed to the top of the staircase “-and our killer was there.” John turned his attention towards Ema’s group and motioned in their general vicinity. “Sherlock would’ve run after him. Every time. He’s done it before a _million times_ before! So what happened? Why would he spend his time altering a crime scene instead?”

Athena frowned, wondering how John couldn’t solve the easiest mystery yet. “John, It really doesn’t take Sherlock to figure this one out.”

John raised an eyebrow.

“He dropped a pile of bones on you to _save_ you! There were gunshots! He had to make a choice - the case, or you. And since you’re standing here, next to us, I think you know what he chose.”

John blinked. “N-No, you don’t understand. He always chooses the case. This is Sherlock we’re talking about.”

Athena shrugged. “ _Peut etre._ But today, the evidence says otherwise.”

John opened his mouth as if to say something, but nothing emerged. He stopped for a moment to collect his thoughts. 

Before he had a chance to speak again, Ema interrupted. She approached, her pink forensic glasses down. She tapped the rims of her glasses twice with her pointer finger. “Apologies for the wait. Science called.”

“What did it say?” asked Athena.

“It said ‘hello, I’m here to wreck the prosecution's case.’” Ema pushed the pink glasses up until they rested on her forehead. “So, I bet you wanna hear our findings, huh?” Ema crossed her arms, leaned back, and smirked.

“I would - I would very much like that, yes,” said John.

“All right. Good news - we found both bullets. Take a look behind me, if you will.”

They did. Past the line of officers and the single security personnel was a steel door built into the righthand wall, which read:

_Employees Only._

_Security room, maybe? Or storage?_ Beyond that, an open archway led to another exhibit. Green signage across the opening read _Ancient Neolithic Pottery: 7500 B.C.E. to 2000 B.C.E._

“We found one bullet in the ‘O’ on pottery.”

Athena fist-bumped John’s arm. “Bullseye, doctor!” Doctor Watson didn’t react in the slightest. His eyes stayed fixed on Ema, processing this new information.

“Not quite a Bullseye,” Ema said, motioning to the giant ‘O’ behind her. Sure enough, the bullet pierced the left edge of the O and buried deep into the drywall behind it. “As for the other bullet-”

Ema walked next to the security room door. “Stand here and take a look, straight across.”

John and Athena followed her instructions. They filed in next to her... and gazed at an empty off-white wall. Pristine and untouched. “Um,” Athena said, “what are we looking at, Ema?”

Ema smiled. Athena started to wonder if this was some kind of prank intended to waste their time. “Okay Priscilla," Athena said, "Wow them.”

The tall, jumpsuited security guard stepped forward. “‘Course. Here we go.” Priscilla stepped next to Ema, pulled on a retractable lanyard attached to her shirt, and in what seemed like a pointless ritual, waved her security badge along the bare wall. 

A small _ding!_ sounded and the wall slid apart in the center, revealing a metal box housed within. It looked familiar, very familiar. _Wait a sec, s this really a-_

“A service elevator,” said Watson. “Fascinating. Elaborate even.”

“Yup!” Said Ema, one finger on the side of her pink glasses again. “Clever, isn’t it? Goes all the way down to the garage. They use it for setting up or removing new installations on the second floor easier. It’s also where we found-” Ema pointed to a massive dent in the center of the elevator. Her hand motioned down from there until it pointed to “- Bullet two.”

John left his post abruptly and shook his head. He ran to the balcony, stared down at the area in front of Sue, and then looked at the hidden elevator. His head made the journey three times, back and forth, before he voiced his thoughts. “I’m-I'm sorry, am I the only one who thinks this is... impossible?”

Ema shrugged. “Listen, Doctor - I don’t care much about possible or impossible. There’s certainly no way you could’ve misfired a shot into this elevator from way down there, if that’s what you’re asking. But, here’s a fact - last night, a 9-millimeter bullet struck the back wall of this elevator. The ballistics - and huge dent in the back of the elevator - are consistent with that fact.”

Athena scratched her head. John was right, this made no sense. Even more baffling, the first bullet corroborated John’s series of events - it would’ve been quite easy for John to hit the pottery signage from the ground floor pointing up, but how could his second bullet suddenly veer ninety degrees to the left and enter an elevator that wasn’t even _visible_ from the ground floor?

“And now you see the prosecution’s dilemma, yes?” Ema crossed her arms, waiting for a response.

Athena felt like she should know the answer to this, but in truth, she drew a complete blank. John didn't offer an answer either.

“Athena? John? Come on now!” Ema placed a hand on her hip, frustrated with the lack of response. “It’s one bullet too many!”

 _Oviamente, that’s right!_ The autopsy report said one bullet had been recovered from Olgist’s body, but John’s gun had only been fired twice. Two bullets on the top floor brought the total number of bullets fired on the scene to three. They finally had definitive proof another shooter had been in the Meadow Museum the night of the murder!

##### ADDED TO COURT RECORD - Bullet one (sign), Bullet two (elevator)

Athena pounded a fist into her glove, feeling a rush of confidence. “Thanks, Ema."

“Don’t thank _me._ If anything, I should thank you and Mr. Wright! Now I finally get to do what I wanted to in the first place.” Ema responded. “Speaking of thorough investigations, we’re going to canvas the other floors, too. If you need anything else, Priscilla here will help you out.”

Ema and her two officers disappeared into the pottery exhibit, and the woman in a dark jumpsuit stepped forward. A braid draped down the right side of her head, and it was only now Athena noticed a few dyed purple streaks mixed in with the blue.

She introduced herself with crossed arms and a stern demeanor. Her right hand remained tucked beneath an arm. “Priscilla Graves. How can I help?”

“Hiya Priscilla,” Athena said, hoping her informal greeting would ease Priscilla's intense, serious energy. “Were you working the night Doctor Olgist was shot?”

She shook her head once. “Nope. Sorry. Our security team is still fresh. We hardly had our schedules figured out, and now...”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” Said John. “Tell me, do they... issue security firearms here?”

Priscilla raised an eyebrow. “No.”

“Then what’s that on your hip?” John pointed to her side, where a holster with what appeared to be the handle of a modern pistol. _Woah! How did I miss that?_

Priscilla smiled. “Sharp as they say, Doctor. Unfortunately, like I said, we’re still new, so - “ Priscilla drew the pistol from her holster with her left hand. She folded her arms again, dangling the gun by its trigger guard, spinning it like a toy.

Watson winced. “You... aren’t the one doing the training, right? Your trigger discipline needs, uh... more discipline.”

Priscilla kept spinning her gun like a toy. “Yeah, I guess it’s a bad habit. I’ll try to break it when they finally hand out the _real_ stuff.”

“Ah,” said John, unhappy and unsatisfied with her excuse.

Athena darted her eyes back and forth between the two of them. _Uhhh... shouldn’t she really break that habit now?_

“Training equipment,” John clarified. “May I?” He asked as he held out his hand. Priscilla shrugged and handed it over, dangling it into his hand with one finger in the trigger guard.

“Again, your discipline-” John stopped his lecture early. “Here.” John handed the gun over to Athena. 

She took hold and instantly felt an unexpected weight. Her hand dropped at first until she tightened her grip. “Wow. You know, this is the first time I’ve ever held a gun.”

“You still haven’t,” John clarified. “It’s training equipment. Weighs the same and _feels_ like a firearm, but it’s just a plastic mold. ”

Athena turned it over in her hand, examining its sides. Just as John said, it really was just a hunk of plastic. She curved her wrist back to take a look at the barrel, where the facsimile became more obvious - there wasn’t a hole in the barrel to stare down at all, just more black plastic.

John’s hand shot out, grabbed the top of the plastic gun, and pushed the barrel down. Hard. “ _Please_ don’t do that again, Miss Cykes. Ever.”

Priscilla laughed. “Okay, hand over the toy.” No sooner did she have it back in her hands then she resumed spinning the plastic mold around with her left pointer finger like Annie Oakley. “Best someone on our staff could’ve done is bludgeon Olgist to death. Think you two are going to need some new suspects.”

Athena flicked her earring. _How’s a gun with two rounds fire three shots, one of which ends up in a closed elevator?_ Whatever the answer was, Athena felt like they didn’t have the evidence to figure it out. It was time to pivot to a new line of questioning. “Did you know Olgist?” Athena asked.

“Not really. He shares some office space with our Museum Director, Randall Carver, but most of Olgist’s time is spent at University. He’d been acting funny for the past few weeks, though.”

“How so?” said John.

Priscilla stopped spinning her plastic gun. She placed a single finger on her chin. “He became much more concerned with security, for one. A lot of our recent changes were all a result of his suggestions to Carver.”

She seemed to think that was enough, but John was unsatisfied. “I’m sorry, What kind of suggestions?”

Priscilla frowned and pulled down her cap. “Like spending a fortune on a new security system. Up until last night, the Meadow Museum had some dated security cameras - they were stationary, only updated every thirty frames, and suffered from frequent interruptions. Not only that, but to save on costs, cameras in our less trafficked rooms were just decoys. They not wired up to anything.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“The average person doesn't know if the camera is fake or not. Seeing one would probably discourage teenagers from... being teenagers, I guess? Graffiti, touching things? Each other? You get the idea.”

Athena felt the need to point out _she_ was a teenager, or at least would be for at least one more year, but suppressed the desire. She was a working attorney now anyway, and currently felt very much like an adult. “So... what happened to the cameras, then?”

“He bought _panoramic_ ones! 360-degree coverage, 60 frames a second. Now for the catch - you two think you can guess?”

John and Athena shared a glance. There was only one explanation as to why their photographic evidence had been so sparse. Athena spoke first. “You have no cameras until the new ones are installed.”

Prisicilla nodded, and pushed her cap up to reveal her face. “Bingo. Points to the girl in the safety jacket.”

##### ADDED TO COURT RECORD - Offline Security Cameras

 _Safety Jacket? It’s not that bright!_ “Any other changes?”

“The silent alarm.” Said John, matter-of-factly. 

Priscilla shook her head. “Nope, sorry Doc. We’ve always had those installed on all external windows. The latest change is, of two weeks ago, all badge use is now recorded in a database. No one enters the building, security room, or service elevator without a system log. In fact, I generated one just now when I opened the elevator.”

Athena practically lept forward, her evidence senses tingling. “Do you have a copy of last night’s logs?”

Priscilla laughed with her hands on her hips. “The Skye-lady practically tackled me with the same enthusiasm! Here, take this.” Priscilla holstered her plastic gun, then fished around in her pocket. Soon she produced a keycard with a lanyard already attached.

Athena took hold and flipped the badge over - and nearly dropped the badge when she saw who it belonged to. _Doctor Archie Olgist._ “Wait, this is- “

Priscilla nodded. “Yup, the old man’s badge.” 

Watson shook his head. “I’m sorry... _how_ do you have this? Shouldn’t this be in evidence?”

Priscilla offered a shrug as an explanation. “He didn’t have it on him when he died, so the police figured it wasn’t pertinent to the investigation. We found it sitting on Carver’s desk, in the third-floor study.”

##### ADDED TO COURT RECORD - Doctor Olgist’s badge.

“Anyway, with that badge, you’ve got full run of the place. Knock yourselves out. If you want to see last night’s logs, I’ve got ‘em up in the security room. You could also get a copy from Ema.”

Athena smiled. Usually she had to do someone’s chores to get information this useful. “Thanks, Priscilla! You’ve been immensely helpful. I mean it.” _Seriously, compared to the people we usually question, she’s been a Godsend._

Priscilla entered the security room as John and Athena pondered their next move. Athena cradled her chin with her thumb and forefinger as she pondered all this new information. “Whoever murdered Olgist... they knew last night would be their only chance, right? It _had_ to be someone who knew the cameras would be offline.”

John nodded. “That’s - that’s sound reasoning, yes. Narrows down our suspect pool substantially.”

 _A compliment from Watson himself? Be still my heart!_ “Thanks,” Athena said, pretending it was perfectly normal to receive a compliment on her deductive skills from the world’s second-most authority on the matter.

Watson tapped his wrist where a watch might be. “Where is your boss, anyway?”

“Oh, right! I got so caught up with our new clues, I completely forgot about him! I’ll check.” Athena activated widget, brought up her holo-screen, and tapped the phone application. She decided to just send a text for now, lest she interrupt an important conversation with the Chief Prosecutor.

**Yo! Where you at? Gettin great stuff over here! - A.C.**

“All right,” Athena said as she turned off Widget. The holo-screen flickered away. “Where to first?”

“The study,” said John. “there’s _always_ something stashed away in the study.”

“Okay,” Athena pounded a fist into her palm. _“Allons y!”_


	12. Investigation, Day 1 - The Director's Study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Olgist's I.D. card in hand, the entire museum is now at Athena and John's mercy. First on the list - a visit to the shared office of Museum Director Randall Carver and Doctor Archie Olgist.

#### MEADOW MUSEUM: RANDALL CARVER’S STUDY

#### MARCH 3RD, 6:39 PM

Athena entered a room of mahogany, alabaster, and exceptional class. _Fantaisie!_

What the room lacked in size, it made up in style. Three walls were lined with dark mahogany bookshelves, filled to the brim with old books with gold lettering on all their spines. A white globe on a stand rested next to a wooden desk, a desk with the same class and color as the bookshelves. It appeared to be similar in dimensions to Wright’s desk, but probably cost nine times the amount he’d paid.

Come to think of it, had Wright even paid for his own desk? It never occurred to Athena to ask about how long her boss had owned his office. _He’s a bit of a cheapskate. Bet the desk came pre-furnished._

John immediately began sifting through any papers left out, while Athena scanned the book collection.

As Athena ran her finger across spines, reading increasingly boring titles like _Greater Discoveries Between Cardiff and Liverpool, 1100 - 1550 A.C.E._ , she could hear John rustle papers between his hands, pause to read it, and then shuffle them away while new pages rustled about.

Athena turned back to check on his progress. It didn't look promising - she caught him frowning and shaking his head. “Finding anything useful over there?”

“Only if you think a printed email memo about new keycard guidelines will crack the case.” He extended his fingers and let the paper fall. “A printed email In 2019? Seriously?”

Athena shrugged. “Old people.” She continued running her fingers across the spines of increasingly boring books, wondering what it is she thought to find.

“Um, Athena?” John said, “What exactly are you hoping to find over there?”

_Busted._ “A fake book? Maybe? You know, the kind you pull on to reveal a hidden passage.”

Watson answered with a blank stare. He blinked once, then resumed shuffling papers.

Athena broke off from the wall of tomes and returned to the desk. She knelt down and began opening up drawers instead, hoping for better results.

In the bottom drawer, she found a bottle of whiskey and five folders. She flipped open the first folder (blue, with the museum’s logo on it) and began reading. It didn’t take long to realize she was reading the syllabus for one of Olgist’s classes.

 

_ANTH E-1140: Archeology and Human Evolution_

 

Athena quickly flipped through the other four folders. Same layout. All class paperwork. _This would be one heck of a find if I wanted to cheat on my tests. For our case, not so much._

Athena dumped all the folders back in the bottom drawer and kicked it shut.

“So nothing useful then?”

Athena shook her head. She opened the top desk drawer to find all the things she’d normally associated with top drawers across all of human history. Letter opener, binder clips, paper clips, pens and pencils. The drawer looked so small, there really wasn’t much room for anything else. In fact, she could barely fit her hand inside the space. As she stared more at the drawer, the more convinced she became ther was more to it.

She opened the drawer.

Closed it.

Opened it.

Closed it again.

She listened to the way the cabinet rolled, the way it clicked in place. _Nope, that's not it._

“Something wrong?” asked John.

“It’s this drawer. Does something, I don't know, bug you about it?”

John’s eyebrows narrowed. He stared down the cabinet drawer.

Athena pulled it out once more and left it open, then bent over to look underneath. Something finally clicked, but it still didn’t make sense. “Got it! It’s the dimensions! Back at our office, Equi has enough space to rest comfortably in the top drawer, but she’d be _totally_ cramped in here!”

“Who’s Equi?”

“Trucy’s Rabbit.”

“Sorry, who’s - “ John let it drop. Down this line of questioning, he only saw more questions. “Never mind. Just step aside, please. Give me one second here.”

Athena did as she was asked. John reached his hand into the drawer, feeling around the back. “Just need to - “ Watson clicked his tongue twice, pushed something, and the bottom of the drawer seemed to fall further into the drawer.

Athena blinked. She couldn’t see Widget, but she heard it’s unmistakable beep as it shifted to reveal her shock. “How - how did you - “

“False bottom,” John said. “We see them, oh, every… three cases or so? The honors are all yours from here.”

Athena reached into the desk and felt around for the edge of the false top. Once she had a good fingertip on the edge, she lifted it up, dug her hand underneath, and pushed further. All the loose items clattered and clamoured down the false panel, their careful organization completely undone. But Athena didn’t care about what was above the panel anymore. _It’s not like Olgist is going to complain about it._

The false bottom revealed a huge stack of papers. Athena reached her other hand into the drawer, grabbed hold, and yanked them out. She immediately regretted doing so with a single hand. _Yeesh, this weighs like thirty pounds!_

“Hello, what is all this?” said John.

Athena flipped to the first page to find:

 

_N.M.L.S. 1218_

_Medieval Broadhead Arrowheads_

_Denbigh_

_Lat 53.18390600000234, Long -3.425001999994467_

_Milo Donovan_

_Associates:_

_Dana Stapes_

_Christopher Yew_

_Longhi Park_

_Veronica Dane_

_Celila Lument_

_Chelsea Manchester_

 

Watson leaned over her shoulder. “Huh. If I don’t know better, I’d... may I?”

Athena handed over the stack of pages. Watson’s hands dipped as he took hold, unprepared for the weight of it all.

He righted himself and cleared his throat. As Watson flipped through the pages, either not understanding or not caring about the contents of each page, Athena placed a thumb on her chin. Something had looked familiar on that last page of gibberish she’d gleaned, but couldn’t recall why.

“Hmm-mm, I uh, I thought so.” Watson shook the stack of documents in his hand. “These are first drafts of academic journal submissions.”

Athena tilted her head. “Journal submissions?”

“When new discoveries are made in a field of research, they’re submitted for publication to any number of journals in the given field. Had my name in many medical journals, once upon a time. Before I met - well, you know.”

Athena bit the leather tip of her glove as she pondered what any of this meant. “So - who would hide something this boring in a false drawer? And why hide it in the first place?” Athena tried to conjure up a scenario that explained all those questions, but she came up short. _Why would these even be here and not in his own office, or at home?_ “Hey, Watson? Flip to that first page again.”

He did. And this time, they both saw it. Two familiar names on the list of contributors.

Chelsea Manchester and Milo Donovan.

Watson placed a finger under Chelsea’s name. “Wait, isn’t this-”

Athena snatched the packet away with both hands. “I _knew_ something looked odd on this page! Milo and Chelsea were -“

“-Our poltergeists victims. The whole reason Sherlock and I... what are their names doing _here_?”

“And look, Dana is on here too! She must've known the victims then too, right?” Watson didn’t answer, and Athena didn’t dare postulate a theory of her own yet either. This proved everyone involved in this case was far closer to the Pembroke murders than they’d let on.

Athen and John stared at each other, questions hanging in the air between them. Athena pointed to the document. “So we’re stealing this, right?”

“Yes. Definitely.” Watson slammed the desk drawer shut. “We’d best ask Dana about it on our way out.”

Athena nodded, and wished she had the foresight to bring a messenger bag to shove a thirty-pound stack of papers in.

##### ADDED TO COURT RECORD - Journal Submissions

“Where to next, Athena?”

Athena placed a fingertip against her face, all while cradling their newfound stack of pages in her arm. They’d found evidence, but none of it had been the conclusive, devastating blow to the prosecution's case she hoped for. But then again, hoping for a gun sitting on a desk monogrammed with the real killer’s initials was perhaps too hopeful.

“Let's head to the parking garage," Athena said. "Wright had a hunch during the case we need to verify.”


	13. Investigation, Day 1 - Below The Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In search of evidence that may have ended up off the well-worn murder scene paths, Athena and John turn their attention to the Meadow's parking garage.

#### MEADOW MUSEUM: PARKING GARAGE

#### MARCH 3RD, 6:47 PM

Athena and John stepped out of the service elevator into a (mostly) empty subterranean parking lot. In front of them were the only four cars in the whole place - a blue Hatchback and three Police Cruisers.

Athena noted the police cruisers parked however they pleased. One was parked on such a slant, it took up three spaces.

“Do the Police in your country always park like this?”

Athena frowned. “No. _Everyone_ does.”

They paced along the edge of the parking lot, looking for something amiss. Their footsteps echoed as they walked, confirming what they already knew; they were the only souls down here.

Athena kept her eyes to the ground, looking for anything that might suggest a connection to murder - a streak of blood, burnt tire streaks, white skid marks from heavy objects dragged across the cement. Nothing of the sort appeared.

John gave an exasperated sigh. “Please, _please_ tell me I am not the only one who walks into every unfamiliar location _constantly_ searching for blood.”

Athena smiled to herself. “The Wright Anything Agency - searching for blood is what we do!”

As they approached the far end of the parking lot, a fenced storage area came into view. Athena and John both stopped in front of a chain-link fence and stared in, examining the contents. Giant wooden slats sat on an orange flatbed. A rolling stand-up dolly sat atop them, slanted, practically sliding off the edge. Sawhorses were folded up and stacked against the far wall. A five-tiered rolling toolbox sat nearby the sawhorses, a toolbox which must’ve been too small for whoever it belonged to because piles of tools surrounded the box in stacks. These weren’t your normal household tools either. Athena saw dozens of things she’d never seen before - Drills with long straight noses, massive blue screws, a Jackhammer with a cartridge slot as if it fired bullets.

Athena pointed to the strange jackhammer, then gave John a slanted eyed glance and a shrug. “Murder Weapon?”

John shook his head. “I sincerely doubt the good doctor is the victim of a powder actuated tool. They aren’t known to take 9-millimeter rounds, and often require direct contact to fire. I - I just don't see Olgist standing perfectly still while his assailant pressed a device the size of a Jackhammer against him.”

Athena nodded in agreement, pretending the whole time she knew exactly what a “powder actuated tool” was. She gazed at the scene a little longer. “Does something seem... I don't know, off to you about all this?”

John tilted his head. “It does all seem rather slapdash, doesn’t it? Like-”

“-Like someone threw all this in here in a hurry.” Athena placed a curled finger on her chin. _So what does this mean? Of all the things to hurridly toss, why all this? And why leave the dolly hanging off the edge?_

Athena’s hand went down to Widget. She tapped his face to bring up her holo-screen and flipped to her photo app.

#### ADDED TO COURT RECORD - Storage Area Photo.

John smiled. “Good thinking.”

“Thanks!” Athena clicked Widget’s holo-screen off. “Bye-bye!” It chirped. “Without more evidence, I’m not sure what to make of all this, but it feels important, right? Out of place. For now, why don't we go see if Dana knows anything about these papers?”

As they walked back towards the elevator, another question bothered Athena - just what the heck did Mr. Edgeworth and Mr. Wright have to discuss that would possibly take this long?


	14. Investigation, Day 1 - Interviewing Dana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena and John return to Dana to show her pictures of her poor, dismantled T-Rex. During their conversation, it becomes clear Dana knows much more than she's been letting on.

#### MEADOW MUSEUM: ENTRANCE

#### MARCH 3RD, 7:01 PM

Athena and Watson were barely down the front steps when Dana ambushed them from behind a pillar.

“You're back! Finally! Quick, how is she?”

They both jumped. John erupted with “ _What is-!_ Why were you behind -” but the words trailed off. Then he patted himself down and regained his composure. “Ahem.” John produced his phone. “Gather ‘round the mobile and see for yourself, I suppose.”

John held out his phone with the clear intention of having Dana glance over his shoulder, but as he turned to accommodate her view, she snatched the phone from his hands. John’s fingers remained exactly where they were, dangling in the air, firmly grasping an invisible phone.

He blinked twice before his hands dropped.

Dana tilted and spun Watson’s phone with a voracious appetite for pictures of Sue, all while John patiently waited (with nervous, worrisome eyes) to receive his phone again. “There she is! Oh, poor old girl! What did they do to you?”

John paced his way over to Athena. Dana’s finger dashed across his phone screen repeatedly as she exclaimed words Athena only marginally understood, speaking aloud to herself as if creating a mental to-do list. “Tarsals and metatarsals look okay, Pubis and ilium remain attached. Oh, but your caudal vertebrae, _sweetheart!_ Your poor, poor caudals.”

John folded his arms.“When do you think this will end?”

Athena only shrugged.

When it was all over Dana let out a massive exhale, as if she’d been holding her breath for a decade. “Thank you, Dr. Watson.” She freely offered the phone back. Watson stepped forward to receive it. “The extent of the damage is far less severe than I anticipated. You know how the mind works - everything’s the worst until you see it, and then it isn’t.”

John pocketed his phone, “Uh, of course, Miss Stapes. Glad to be of service. Now if you don’t mind, there’s a way you could be of service to us.”

“Of course!" Dana perked up, and for the first time since Athena had met her, smiled. Whaddya need?”

Athena held up the stack of documents they’d found in a hidden compartment. “What can you tell us about all this? We found them in the office, but to us it's mostly gibberish.”

“Of course, let me-” Dana reached out to take the stack, but she’d barely spied the front page when she recoiled and shoved everything back into Athena’s chest. Athena caught her footing before toppling over, but pages drifted to the ground as Athena struggled to grasp hold. John scrambled to grab the floaters.

“You- I-” Dana covered her arms around her chest, closed off as if she’d just been wounded. Athena thought she looked like a squirrel protecting an invisible nut. “W-where did you find these?”

“In Carver’s Desk,” said John. “Or Olgist’s, perhaps? They do share an office. They were hidden in a secret compartment, but we aren't sure who place them there.”

“A secret - why would he keep these _here?_ ” Dana backed up until she was against the side of the police barricade. It no longer seemed to matter there were people standing in front her, waiting for answers, and Athena began to seriously doubt she would ever offer any.

Dana stood up, exuding a false confidence, and stated, “I-I... I have never seen these before in my life.”

The emotional echo of distress behind every word was overwhelming. Athena would’ve laughed if her empathetic vibes hadn't sent her reeling too. _Hmm. I-I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this may be the most blatant lie a witness has ever told me._

Athena formed a plan and nodded to herself. If she could get Dana talking, maybe she could hone in on what caused such a severe reaction. _A surprise therapy session it is._ “Ms. Stapes, you must know there’s no way we could believe that.”

“E-even so. I refuse to discuss them.” Her arms stayed folded, gaze to the ground.

John stepped forward. “Dana. I-I don’t understand. I’m a Doctor myself, of medicine. I recognize academic papers when I see them, and never in my life have I seen... _that_ reaction to one.” He pointed towards the ground for emphasis. “Whatever’s in these documents, is it really such an earth-shattering discovery it’s worth risking a witness summons? Were there really such paradigm-shifting discoveries in…” John glanced down at the few pages he’d scooped up from the ground. “Medieval Broadhead Arrows? I mean, what did Olgist discover to warrant such secrecy? Did Jesus of Nazareth himself sculpt these?”

Dana exploded in fury. “Olgist _never discovered-_ " She stopped and mustered control again. "No! No, I won’t be drawn into this.” Dana turned away.

Athena felt it then. The discord in her voice. _Olgist never discovered._ Those words were laced with powerful emotions, overflowing with them. Sadness and rage flowed out of her as if it’d been bottled up since the first broadhead arrow was discovered. 

Athena pondered why Dana would have such a violent reaction... and then something clicked. Athena formed a theory, one she was sure had to be partially true. _If I'm right on this, maybe our victim wasn't quite as innocent as we've believed._ “Dana, I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” She said, her head cast to the side, back still turned.

“For how Olgist stole your research.”

Dana’s feet shuffled. Her body shifted around, slowly, one short step at a time. Her eyes were wide with shock. Athena glanced to her side, and Even John stared at her in disbelief.

“How- how could you possibly-”

“You said ‘Olgist never discovered.’ I don’t know how you meant to finish that sentence, but your emotions gave you away. I sensed it - deep-rooted anger and sadness. Resentment. Olgist stole your research, didn’t he Dana?”

“N-no. It’s more... complicated.” Her hands grasped her sides again. Her eyes turned toward the floor.

Another rush. Dana was right - it was more complicated. Athena had been correct about the emotions, but wrong about who they were directed at.

“Ms. Stapes, you’re accomplished, passionate, dedicated...”

John gave Athena a slanted eyebrow. “I’m sorry, are you - are you hitting on her, or preparing her for a job interview?”

 _Not now, John! Tranquilo, you!_ “...So I have to ask, why do you blame yourself for what Olgist stole?”

Dana’s eyes rose for only a second, taking Athena in. Athena knew this look well - Dana was weighing whether or not she could trust this complete stranger who seemed unusually able to read her true feelings. Her eyes returned to the floor.

Athena pushed harder. “Dana, it's hardly right to blame yourself when your own mentor used your work for his own gains. What could you have done?”

Dana’s head came back up. Athena could see the wetness of her eyes, but no tears were falling. Not yet. “I could’ve said no.”

John and Athena looked at each other, each hoping the other might have an idea of what she meant.

“I suppose it hardly matters now. The secret will be out soon enough.” Dana sighed. Her eyes were now red, irritated. “I always knew from the youngest age, digging up relics of our past is what I wanted. I never wanted anything else. But the cost of higher education is - is absolutely _staggering._ I let nothing deter me, even still, but… surely I don’t need to explain to you, Doctor Watson, just how much debt one can accrue in a five-year graduate program.”

Watson shrugged. “I obtained my doctorate at Barts. In London.”

Dana scoffed. “Oh. Right. Damn you Brits.” She smiled faintly, joking through her sadness. “Well, here in the United States, it’s not uncommon for those with doctorates to be paying off their student loans until, well... A long time, you see.”

Athena flicked her earring. _She can’t mean... can she?_ “Dana, did Doctor Olgist offer to pay students to claim their work?”

Dana paused for a long while. Eventually, she nodded. “That is perhaps the most charitable way to say he offered us money for research, yes. Bribery, I believe, is what one would normally call it - and most of us were happy to accept.”

“My God,” said John, “Is this what passes for academia in the states?”

Athena placed one hand on her hip. The other still clutched the packet of papers. “I understand your complex emotions now, Dana. It’s not just Olgist you’re upset with. You’re upset with yourself, too. For accepting his offer.”

Dana stared up at Athena as if she’d just been wounded. The waterworks would follow any minute now. “I - I'm not proud. Or sorry. I knew the terms of the arrangement well. We all did. Olgist would pay us well to take credit for our discoveries, build his reputation. He promised us, each of us, that he would keep our original drafts and release them to the world when he retired.”

“Or died, I assume?” John added.

“Y-yes. After so many years, I began to wonder if he truly meant it.”

Athena took a moment to process everything. Olgist wasn’t a hapless victim after all. The question that had loomed over the day’s court session, the seeming absence of a motive for his murder, became clear as crystal.

These pages were a list of all the most likely suspects - his own students. Dana included.

The pangs of grief in Dana’s words still resonated. Something remained unspoken, but Athena had no idea what it could be.

John did. “Ms. Stapes, how many people in your class accepted the terms of his arrangement?”

“All but one,” she said. “Veronica Dane.”

All at once, a powerful wave of emotion hit Athena, like she’d plunged into an overflowing well of sadness. Somewhere, deep down, Athena felt waves of joy and love, too. This was what she’d been afraid to discuss all along.

Dana straightened up. “Veronica and I were... how would you...”

John offered a few suggestions. “Friends? Compatriots? Brothers in arms?”

Athena offered another, simpler explanation. “Gay?”

Dana’s pointer finger bobbed in the air in her direction. “Bingo. I would’ve preferred lovers, I suppose, but I’ll take it.”

Athena nodded. _As I thought. That explains the joy and love._ “How long were you two together?”

“Two years. The happiest ones of my life. Discovering Sue is still only the second greatest joy I’ve experienced.”

John cleared his throat. “Ah, if I may. Veronica discovered you accepted his bribe, didn’t she?”

Dana nodded, her eyes still red and swollen. She wiped an arm across her face. “Y-yes. She did. And she didn’t only leave me, she left the entire program. When Olgist offered her the same terms, she tore into him. She walked out, and none of us heard from her again.”

Athena tilted her head. A depressing story, certainly, but she couldn’t help but find comfort, knowing there was at least one person in the world for whom no price was high enough to sacrifice their morals. “Veronica... hm. She sounded wonderful, Dana.”

“She was.” Dana breathed in deep. “Oh, what a catastrophe. I thought of all these things as relics from my past now. Another life, another era. And here they are, destroying my present. I can’t help but think, had I been stronger in that moment, perhaps she’d still be with me.”

John and Athena gave each other guilty looks. Dana’s cooperation had been much appreciated, but they’d put the poor girl through an emotional wringer. They nodded to each other in a silent, understood agreement - this interrogation was over.

Athena placed a hand on Dana’s shoulder. “Ms. Stapes, I’m so sorry. I promise we’ll find out who did this. When it’s all over, the world will celebrate your discovery the way they were supposed to. The Wright Anything Agency will even treat you to dinner!” _And by that, I mean Mr. Wright will treat you to dinner!_

Dana smiled. A feeble hand gripped the top shoulder of Athena’s yellow coat. “Thank you, Athena.”

“Oh, um, Ms. Stapes?” John said. “Please, find a way to not blame yourself for this. Any of it. I know I ask the impossible, but... you were a student. As a teacher, he had power of you. It-it wasn't an equal relationship. ”

“But - but I’m not innocent.”

John nodded. “No. No, You’re not. But Olgist was far, far more guilty. And I hope Miss Dane understands that someday.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Holmes." Dana wiped an arm across her face once more. "I can’t wait to read your blog on this one.”

John sighed. “I can’t wait to find time to write it.”

Dana turned away from them, a smile on her face. She exhaled like a weight had been lifted off her chest, her head towards the sky. _She looks peaceful now. I can't see Dana killing Olgist, but I also can't deny this is a strong motive. Still, if she did do it, why wait five years?_

Athena kept pondering Dana's motive as they descended the stairs. Her attention went to John once he broke off towards the police line and approached an officer. “Pardon me, do you have a walkie to Detective Skye?”

The officer stared, dumbstruck.

“Officer?”

He nodded.

“May I use it?”

“I-I-I’m a huge fan, sir. Er, Doctor! Doctor. And uh, I’m probably not, I mean, I’m not supposed to say this but-”

Athena cringed. _Oh boy, I hope I didn't look like this when we met. This is excruciating._

John ignored all his platitudes and said again, firmer, “May I use it.”

The officer handed him a walkie.

John flipped it around in his hands until he found the push-to-talk trigger. “This is John Watson. Place Ema Skye on, please.”

There were some incoherent, static-ridden mumblings. Then a familiar voice said, “ _...I said to luminol there, not there!_ ” A click. A clatter, a bang. _“Doctor Watson? How did you get a-"_

“Please place a squad car outside Ms. Dana Stapes house tonight.”

Athena jumped back in surprise.

 _“What? Why?”_

“I have reason to believe she is either in incredible danger, or she is our true culprit.”

Silence on the other end. Then, _“What exactly is the defense playing at here?”_

“Please, Just do this. It may save her life.”

“ _Okay, okay! I will, but I expect an explanation - when I have time one. Hey! Get away from that.” Then silence._

Athena dropped her hands from her cheeks. She hadn’t realized they ended up there; she must’ve raised them in surprise. “John, what’s going on? Why do you think-”

“The names, Ms. Cykes. I don’t know why yet, but I believe someone is out to eliminate all the names on that list.”

“Why?”

“Look at the first page.”

Athena held up the stack. John pointed to two names on the front page of contributors - Milo Donovan and Chelsea Manchester.

John’s eyes were serious, stern. “These two were the first to die. Olgist was next. Our Poltergeist must be one of these people, exacting revenge on everyone who implicitly accepted corruption within their program. Perhaps the only one who refused it in the first place.”

Athena was taken aback. “What? _No!_ You heard Dana! They were lovers! Why would her own ex-girlfriend be out kill-” Athena stopped mid-sentence as memories of every case where the culprit ended up being a jilted lover flooded her mind’s eye. “ _Merde._ You’re right.”

John shrugged. “Love drives men to madness.”

“Or women.” Athena added. “I think we’ve found what we need to take suspicion off Sherlock tomorrow. Let's head to the detention center and see if Mr. tall, dark and curt has any input on our evidence. But before that...”

Athena popped up her holo-screen. “Enough’s enough, I’m phoning Wri--” Vibrations on her collarbone startled her out of her sentence. Widget buzzed twice in quick succession. An incoming call. Sure enough, Athena saw Wright's face on the holo-screen, accompanied by the words:

_Incoming Call_

_Mister Wright_

John raised an eyebrow. “You - you put him in your contacts as ‘Mister?”

“Hush.” Athena answered the call. A picture of Wright’s face appeared in air. A green timeclock began counting up. “Wright! _Capo!_ where have you been?”

Wright offered no answer immediately. Instead, he said, _“I hope the investigation went well.”_

“Sure! _Grande!_ But I’d sure feel better if-”

_“Athena, I won’t be in court tomorrow.”_

Athena and John glanced at each other in surprise. “Why? What’s going on?”

_“The good news - Inspector Lestrade is flying in tonight with case files and evidence from the Pembroke murders. Maybe we’ll find the conclusive link we need.”_

“Ooookay.” Athena had a feeling she knew the catch.

_“The bad news - they’ll only share evidence with lead counsel. And you know the rules.”_

Athena nodded. “There’s no delaying a case. Under any circumstances. Which means...”

_“Which means you’re taking the lead tomorrow, at least until I can get back from the Embassy.”_

Three years ago, this news would’ve shaken Athena to her core. Today she felt the butterflies start to flutter, but she knew how to reign them in. Mentally she was pounding a fist into her palm to pump herself up. Outside she didn’t, because that would’ve sent a signal to her glove to hang up on Mr. Wright. “Okay. Got it. This is it, huh? My first go at Edgeworth!”

_“Actually, Athena, Scotland Yard needs to see lead counsel from both parties. Someone will be stepping in for Edgeworth, too.”_

“Really? Who’s it going to be?” Athena felt confident she could take Franziska. Sahdmadhi seemed unlikely to attend, since he’d been tied up in Kurha’in with Apollo. There’s no way she’d be lucky enough to get one of the Paynes, not for a case this big.

_“Someone you know well. Simon.”_

Athena winced. She’d squared off against Simon Blackquill before, but not without either Wright or Apollo in her corner.

She glanced over at John. He must’ve tuned out the conversation some time ago, as her shift in position startled him. “What? What is it?”

Athena nodded vigorously, then realized Wright couldn’t see her. “Don’t worry, Boss. I can take him!”

_“Ha! I'm sure you'll be fine. But it's not you I'm worried about you Athena. It's your client. Try to keep Sherlock in line. Left unchecked, our Agency can’t afford the penalties he’d rack up.”_

John leaned over Athena’s shoulder. “I believe that will be my department tomorrow. And tonight. And all the nights and days to come.”

 _“Great. We're glad to have you on this side of the glass now, Doctor Watson. Both of you, try to get some rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”_ With that, Wright hung up. 

Athena closed her holo-screen by pounding a fist into her palm. She’d been waiting to do that the whole call, really. “ _Allons y,_ Watson! We need to get ready for tomorrow!”


	15. Investigation, Day 1 - Night Before The Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow morning it will be up to Athena Cykes to hold her own in court against Simon Blackquill, the Twisted Samurai. Until then, Athen and John reconvene at the Wright Anything Agency to review their newfound evidence.

#### WRIGHT ANYTHING AGENCY

#### MARCH 3RD, 9:01 PM

Athena opened the door to the Wright Anything Agency only to be immediately tackled by a caped figure. John nearly jumped to her rescue, worried Batman himself had been lying in wait. In this case, however, “Batman” was just a teenager in a top hat.

Athena kept her footing. She knew exactly who her affectionate assailant was. Trucy Wright gripped Athena’s sides and gazed at her with worried, wounded puppy eyes. The top hat had shifted off-center on her head, a consequence of her energetic tackle. “Thena! What’s going on? Daddy left me some cryptic note! And who’s- “

The girl’s demeanor changed completely as her gaze turned to Watson. She released Athena, propped herself up, straightened her top hat, and put on a big smile. “Doctor John Watson! Welcome, welcome! Come on in! You’ve made the right choice to join The Wright Anything Agency!”

John scratched the bridge of his nose. “Ah, I - I don’t believe I’ve agreed to join _any_ agency.”

Trucy placed an arm around his shoulder and gently guided him through the threshold. “Haven’t you, though? One magician, one crack team of lawyers, and now a pair of famous detectives! All we need is a prosecutor and a judge, and we’ll be a one-stop-shop for all your legal needs!”

Athena closed the door behind them. Trucy guided John to the couch and sat down, assuming John would do the same. He did not follow suit. Without missing a beat, she stood up, shoved him down onto the couch, and continued. 

Athena felt herself grinning uncontrollably as she listened in on Trucy’s pitch. _That’s... not how prosecutors or Judges work, Truce. Not without breaking many serious laws._ Athena grabbed a water bottle from the mini-fridge and gave Charlie a little water. Wright wouldn’t be home in time to tend to him tonight, after all.

Trucy brought her pitch home. “So? Whaddya think? After Thena frees Sherlock tomorrow, you two can set up shop here and leave ol’ musty, stuffy Baker Street behind!”

John blinked. If he had a response to Trucy, he didn't offer it. Instead, he leaned over the couch in Athena’s direction. “This is Wright's daughter, isn’t it? Trucy?”

Athena smiled and nodded. " _Corretta_ , Doctor Watson."

Trucy tapped the top of her hat. “That’s me! Excellent deduction.”

John held out his hand. “Trucy Wright, it is a pleasure to meet you, but our services shall only ever be available on our own terms and conditions. Now, should you ever need to employ us as consultants, we will discuss those terms.”

Trucy smiled and shook the offered palm. “Hmm... I feel I’ve been outplayed, Doctor.”

“Uh, excuse me? You two?” Athena said, now finished with her handful of chores. “I’m enjoying the Glenngary Glen Ross routine, but I’d like to discuss our plan for Sherlock’s defense tomorrow.”

“Who’s Gary?” Asked Trucy.

“Before your time,” said John. “don’t worry about it.” Then his eyes wandered towards Athena, as he realized he was the oldest person in the room by far. “Actually, it’s before your time, too.”

“Why don’t we take this to Sherlock?” Said Trucy. “A Late night detention center visit! Just like old times when I was Polly's assistant!”

John blinked again, as he often did. His bewilderment tonight seemed to know no bounds. “I’m sorry, why exactly were _you_ going to detention centers at night? Ever?”

“Polly and I used to solve cases all the time back when Daddy played piano and filled up all the drawers with grape juice bottles.”

John blinked even more. A question hung on his lips, but he seemed hesitant to ask it. His mouth opened. It closed. It opened again. Finally, he said, “Grape juice then?”

“Grape juice.”

 _Grape Juice_ , Athena said to herself. She was quite afraid if she said it out loud, the three of them would spend the rest of the evening saying “Grape Juice” to one another. “ _Ahem._ It’s a good idea, Trucy, but John and I tried on the way back. We were turned away. Prosecution won’t let us see him.”

“But why?” Asked Trucy.

John sighed. “He stole a guard’s mobile and used up their data plan searching for information about our case.”

“So what’d they do? Put him under observation?”

“No, they did _that_ after the two guards who moved him to a different cell discovered their mobiles missing as well.”

Athena directed their attention with two claps of the hand. “ _Lo siento._ I have no idea how you live with him, honestly. But that man is my client, and I believe in him! I’ve got our game plan.”

“I’m listening,” said John.

“Tomorrow we need to attack the prosecution’s flimsy motive! Sherlock had no reason to kill Doctor Olgist. In fact, it was in the best interest of your case for Sherlock to keep him alive! If we expose Olgist’s bribery racket in court, we’ll be able to prove one of Olgist's former students is a more likely culprit than your friend.”

John nodded. “That’s sound, but there’s still many questions left to answer.”

Athena sighed. “I know, I know. The mystery bullet?”

“Mystery bullet?” repeated Trucy. “Is magic involved? Can I help?”

John shook his head. “Not unless you can produce a missing gun, too.”

“I’m worried about that missing firearm,” Said Athena. “I’m sure Simon and Ema will be up all night trying to find an answer to the mysterious third bullet, but that third bullet is our secret weapon. Why, it blows a nice big twenty-two caliber hole in the prosecution's case! It means there had to be another shooter, and as long as the possibility exists, I don’t see how they could convict Sherlock!”

John winced. “Ms. Cykes, I must point out a twenty-two caliber hole is not very big at all.”

Athena waved a hand in the air. “ _Je m'en fous,_ Doctor! Tomorrow, Sherlock Holmes is going free and the Poltergeist is going to jail!”

Trucy tapped a finger on her cheek twice. “Didn’t we already catch a Poltergeist?” 

“That was The Phantom, Truce. Totally different.” Athena said.

“What’s the difference?”

John sighed. “One is a ghost, the other is a comic strip from 1936 about a man in a purple onesie.” While Trucy whisked out her phone to look up John's dated reference, The Good Doctor stood and turned his attention to Athena. “If it’s all the same to you, Ms. Cykes, if there’s nothing further to be done I suggest we reconvene tomorrow morning. And, if I may, I believe I may be of assistance in the courtroom tomorrow - if, of course, you’ll accept me as counsel.”

Athena smiled. “Of course, Doctor. With your help, I know we can save Sherlock Holmes!”

John shook his head. “From his legal troubles, perhaps.”

Athena placed her hands on her hips and frowned. A thought hung on her lips, but she kept it inside. _I wonder why every reader on your blog got can tell you save Sherlock from himself every day, Doctor Watson, but you can’t see it yourself._


	16. Trial, Day 2 - Pre-Trial jitters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Trial of Sherlock Holmes begins in only minutes. Athena takes a moment to reflect on her plans... and has a brief clash with Simon Blackquill.

#### DISTRICT COURTHOUSE NO. 2

#### MARCH 4TH 9:53 AM

_I’m Athena Cykes and I’m fine! I’m Athena Cykes, and I’m fine! I’m Athena Cykes and I’m-_ Athena repeated her former co-worker’s mantra to herself over and over again, doing her best not to weird Dr. Watson out. Butterflies were ravaging her stomach. Two years of experience, it would seem, wasn’t enough to make them stop showing up before a trial.

“Ms. Cykes, are you well?” Watson asked.

Maybe Athena hadn’t done as great a job at hiding her inner turmoil as she thought. “Of course!" She flashed a victory sign. “We have everything we need to ruin Simon’s case, we’ve got evidence on the way from Mr. Wright, and I’ve got the world's foremost mystery blogger in my corner today! What could be wrong?”

_I mean, other than this being the most high profile case we’ve ever taken. Other than the whole world watching to find out if there will ever be another entry on John Watson’s blog. Other than my complete failure today meaning the perpetrator of a triple homicide walks free, and we’ve got a list of all their potential victims._

“Ms. Cykes, there you are,” said a familiar voice. Sherlock Holmes stood next to her, his hands still shackled. This was unusual - with the exception of extreme circumstances, defendants typically had their restraints removed before entering the courtroom. “I was informed of the situation from today’s prosecutor. Do try not to have me convicted before Wright arrives, yes?”

Athena pounded a fist into her glove. “I’ll do ya one better, Sherlock. I’m gonna prove you innocent before we even need Wright!”

“I find that doubtful,” said Holmes, “but don’t worry, your confidence is _entirely_ unconvincing as well. I shall do what I can to assist.”

Athena looked at his shackles. “I don’t advise that, Mr. Holmes.”

“I do not have access to a mobile this time, but if last night is any indication, it will be a simple thing to pinch one off the bailiff and- "

“Please don’t,” Said Athena. 

John crossed his arms. “Was pinching mobiles all night worth a day in shackles, Sherlock? Did you learn anything of value?”

“I don’t know yet, John, but before the Kurosawa film posing as a prosecutor strides in, I will share what I learned with our defense.”

Athena raised an eyebrow. _What could he possibly have gleaned?_

“A few weeks ago, Doctor Olgist reported a break-in at his home residence.”

John and Athena glanced at each other. Athena was the first to remark. “And you think this might be related?”

“I haven’t the slightest, but there’s further curiosity here. Olgist reported the break-in, yet when the police arrived, told them nothing of value had been stolen.”

**ADDED TO COURT RECORD - Break-in Report**

Athena flicked her earring. “So he called the police out because he found what? A broken window?”

Sherlock nodded. “Precisely the point of entry Ms. Cykes, but there’s more. The police report leaves no room for doubt - someone entered his home that night. Chairs were moved, cabinets tossed. Yet nothing taken.”

Athena placed a finger on her forehead as she pondered. _So someone was definitely in the building then? Huh._

John crossed his arms as he processed Sherlock’s statement. “Sounds like whoever broke into Olgist’s home didn’t find what they were looking for.”

Sherlock shook his head. “A rudimentary deduction, John, one even this department of buffoons could draw. Too many questions remain unanswered. Who broke in? Why assume so much risk and take nothing of value? And did Olgist provide the police with an honest account?”

Athena chimed in. “Maybe the burglar’s couldn’t assess the value of his items? He was a famous archeologist, after all. He probably has all sorts of priceless trinkets, but to any layman, they’d resemble only average accouterments.”

Sherlock shook his head. “No. This feels far more important, far more - urgh!” Sherlock made a feeble attempt to wave his shackled hands in the air. “There is something _here_ , Ms. Cykes, I know it, but we lack data!”

_Here we go_ , Athena thought as Simon entered the room. His long black Kimono coat drew the attention of everyone nearby. Ever since the Wright Anything Agency had proven his innocence, Simon had lost the shackles on his wrist and the self-defeatist attitude, but he hadn’t lost his strange taste in attire.

John’s eyebrows raised high as he caught a glimpse of Blackquill. He blinked twice soon after. “My god. You were right, Sherlock - H-he really is a walking Kurosawa film.”

Sherlock leaned closer to Athena. “If you and Wright are looking for someone to replace young Apollo, Blackquill seems the correct choice. With his proclivity for unconventional attire, he would fit right in.”

Athena ignored what she judged to be a snide jab at her attire, but with Sherlock, it was hard to tell a snide jab from an earnest suggestion.

Blackquill strode across the room, his long coat billowing out. “Cykes-dono! A brave samurai, to stand in battle without your Shogun.”

Athena rolled her eyes. Around her neck, Widget did the same. “I’ve tried plenty of cases on my own without Wright around, Simon.”

“Oh?” Simon rubbed his chin with a single thumb. “Any of those garner national attention? Front page stories?”

_Oh, come on! Like I’m not already nervous enough! Jerk!_ “Our Agency defended Will Powers, The Steel Samurai himself! We’re used to fame.”

Sherlock leaned in. “Wright defended Will Powers almost seven years before you ended up in his employ.” His head tilted sideways as two disparate thoughts connected. “Ah, that’s where that dreadful samurai notepad in Wright’s suitcase came from.”

Simon chuckled. “If your own client can’t help himself from outbursts of truth, this trial will end before either of our Shogunate return.”

Athena placed a hand on her hip. Inside, she was fuming at Simon’s constant attempts to undermine her authority, but there was a lot more riding on this than pride. “I’m not worried about Sherlock’s outbursts. I believe in our clients, and I’ll prove as much in court today!”

Simon’s voice became hushed. He spoke in a whisper. “There is no shame in admitting when you are outnumbered, Cykes-dono. I know many who would provide co-counsel, if you are willing.”

_What kind of-_ Athena fumed even more. She heard Widget chirp, no doubt flashing red to reflect her own anger. She kept herself calm best she could, but she could feel the sternness in her words. “Simon, I am _not_ the little girl you knew a decade ago. If you’re struggling to understand that, talk to me again this afternoon.”

Simon tilted his head to the side. “And why would I do this?”

“Because by then, I'll have beat you so bad you’ll need a therapy session.”

“Hmpf.” Simon folded his arms, fully rebuked. “You’d be wise to steel your temper and clever words for the battle ahead. I am grateful for the roles you and Wright-dono played in freeing me from my shackles, but do not think it means there will be mercy in my blade.”

Athena nodded. “I’d expect nothing less.”

The bailiff opened the doors. Everyone in the waiting room began to file in.

Sherlock stretched his still-shackled arms as he joined the line. “We should devise signals. I’ll blink once if you’re on track, twice if you’re off.”

“No,” Athena said curtly.

“Very well. Three times.”

Athena and John shared a silent look, and Athena wondered if he shared her same worries. Blackquill exuded confidence in the waiting room. At first, Athena concluded it was merely a result of Blackquill being unable to see her as anything other than a mewing kitten. There was another possibility, one Athena hoped not to be true. During last night’s investigation, the prosecution could’ve dug up extremely incriminating evidence. 

Evidence that assured Simon he had nothing to be anxious about.


	17. Trial, Day 2 - Samurai Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena's day in court has arrived. John and Athena have their secret weapon ready, but what new evidence did the prosecution's investigation uncover?

#### DAY 2

#### COURT IS IN SESSION

“Court will now reconvene for the trial of Doctor John Watson - which I suppose is now the trial of Sherlock Holmes, isn't it?” Announced the Judge.

“You are correct, your baldness,” said Blackquill. “The prosecution is ready to present a new case.”

Athena pounded a fist into her palm twice. “And the defense is prepared to tear it to shreds, your honor!”

The judge's head craned back and forth between the two benches. He blinked twice. “Is it just me, or am I surrounded by entirely different attorneys than yesterday?”

Simon smiled and cradled his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Nothing escapes your hawkish eyes, your baldness. As it so happens, lead counsels are currently meeting with one D.C.I. Lestrade regarding the Pembroke murders.”

“And where is this meeting to take place?”

“The British Consulate. As you may have surmised, we will not anticipate their arrival anytime soon. For now, we are here to continue proceedings in Wright and Edgeworth-dono's absences.”

“Hmmmm. Very well. May I say, Mr. Blackquill, it is a pleasure to see you in a courtroom without handcuffs on.”

“Indeed, your honor. Now let us see if Cykes-dono is prepared for my unrestrained fury.”

Watson crossed his arms and shook his head. He leaned in close and whispered to Athena. “This samurai thing is really - it’s core to his being, isn’t it?”

_Yeah, you could say that._

Blackquill whistled. “Enough chatter. Let us begin proceedings.“

The judge nodded in agreement. “Mr. Blackquil, will you lay out the facts of the case?”

“Hmpfh,” muttered Blackquill. “Very well. The ‘facts’ of this case are about as clear and unfettered as a Tokugawan family tree.”

John and Athena stared at one another, each hoping the other had an explanation.

John only shrugged. “Something tells me Blackquill and Dana Stapes would get along quite well.”

Athena frowned. “Yeah, but the rest of us won’t understand a single word they say.”

Sherlock cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention to the defendant's stand. “The Tokugawa Dynasty ruled Japan for three centuries, first as a family of fifteen Shogunate houses, later as a proper governing body. All fifteen houses ruled - and propagated - until 1871, when Japan disbanded the authority of shogunates and feudal domains in favor of prefectures.”

John Watson made elaborate, sweeping hand motions from behind the defendant’s desk. “Seriously? You don’t concern yourself with the solar system, but you know three hundred years of Japanese history?”

“Ieyasu was a fascinating man, John. Rose to power despite a shaky - possibly fabricated - claim to rule, won battles when vastly outnumbered, and established a dynasty that laid the groundwork for the future of Japan.”

Across the room, Simon Blackquill smiled, pleased with Sherlock’s impromptu history lesson.

That is, until Sherlock continued. “Also the Tokugawa seal is frequently used on logos for Ramen and Sushi establishments.”

John tilted his head. His eyes widened, as though something suddenly made sense. He snapped his fingers. “You- you did a google image search on the new sushi place. That symbol they use, it’s - it’s the Tokugawa seal, isn’t it?”

“Yes it is, and yes I did.”

Simon’s smile faded. “If this sham of a history lesson is complete, I shall begin.” Simon placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. John and Sherlock both winced at the sound.

Taka, Simon’s pet hawk, descended from whereabouts unknown with a slip of paper in his talons. Simon snatched the piece of paper and held it aloft. Taka perched on Simon’s shoulder as he read. “Regrettably, your honor, our investigation presents further perplexities. We discovered two bullets at the scene. One was obscured by exhibit signage, the other by a meticulously hidden service elevator.”

The Judge stroked his beard. “I see. So two bullets were found at the scene, and two shots were fired from John's gun." The Judge paused. "Wait. Hold a moment! Wouldn’t that mean-"

Simon scoffed from the prosecution bench. “Keen as ever, your baldness. John Watson’s firearm only expended two rounds, yet if we include the one lodged in the late archeologist, our total shots expended at the scene rises to three. There is only one possible explanation-”

Athena pounded her bench with an open palm. “There was another gun _and_ another shooter that night!”

Simon chuckled to himself as he crossed his arms. “Oh? Are you so sure, Cykes-dono? The prosecution agrees another firearm was discharged at the scene, but maintains Sherlock Holmes is the only suspect who possessed the means and opportunity.”

The Judge leaned towards the prosecution's bench. “And where is this other gun?”

Simon shook his head. “Not in our possession, your baldness, nor do we know where it came from. Currently, we believe the pistol was disposed of elsewhere. The constabulary is currently sweeping the museum gardens and nearby dumpsters."

_I wonder how Ema feels about being called a constable._

“Speaking of the constabulary, why not have our own forensic detective outline last night's findings? The Prosecution calls Ema Skye to the stand. ”

 

### Testimony: Ema Skye

Ema took the stand with her glasses down. Her eyes were completely obscured behind their pink tint.

Simon snapped a finger. “Ms. Skye. The facts, if you will.”

Ema raised a feeble hand to the side of her face. She propped her glasses up to reveal horrendous, bloodshot, baggy eyes. It was the most ungraceful Athena had ever seen Ema look.

John winced. “Oof. Ghastly.”

Athena kept her voice to a low whisper. “Something tells me Ema’s been up all night searching the museum grounds.”

John scratched the side of his head. “Yes, and judging from her expression, I don’t imagine she’s had much luck.”

Ema wavered left and right. She looked like a bowling pin ready to topple. “Uuuurg... Ema Skye, reporting. Ready. Whatever.”

“Miss Skye!” Simon pounded his desk with a closed fist.

Ema jumped. “Ack! I’m here, I’m here!” Her wavering ended. She patted her hands against her cheeks a few times, and her posture straightened. “Okay, I’m awake. Let’s do this.”

Ema took a deep breath and prepared to lay out her findings. “As Prosecutor Blackquill has already stated, we discovered two bullets at the scene. One in the signage for a pottery exhibit, and the other in a hidden elevator."

The Judge’s eyebrows raised. “A hidden elevator?”

Ema nodded. “Yes, your honor. The Meadow Museum's service elevator accesses all floors. The sliding doors are designed to blend in with the walls when closed, so the average guest won't even notice it's there. Here’s a before-and-after photo for reference.”

##### SUBMITTED INTO EVIDENCE - Elevator picture

The judge examined the photo with his non-gaveled hand. “Hmmm. Ingenious! Why, I can't even tell there's an elevator there when the door is closed!”

Ema sighed. “That’s the idea, your honor. The bullet lodged into the sign is consistent with the testimony we’ve heard so far, but we have no explanation for the slug pulled from inside the elevator yet.”

Simon leaned against the wall. “And were you able to recover ballistic markings?”

Ema shook her head. “Not at all. However, we have determined every round expended at the scene came from a nine-millimeter firearm.”

The Judge stroked his beard. “Hmmmm. So the other gun used identical ammunition.”

Athena frowned. _Hey, who’s supposed to be doing the deductions here?_

Ema continued. “Correct, your honor. However, we have yet to discover another firearm. My team is still combing the Museum's gardens, as well as nearby dumpsters.”

The Judge nodded. “I see. Let us hope it turns up during today's proceedings.”

Ema produced a series of papers and straightened them on the witness stand. “With the help of Priscilla Graves, Meadow's head of security, we also procured additional details on what happened the night of the murder. First, we know the window’s silent alarm was tripped at exactly 9:45 PM.”

##### UPDATED IN COURT RECORD - Broken window

“Second, employee ID cards are required to access all staff areas, including the service elevator. Each time one of these ID cards is swiped, the activity is logged. Here’s a print-out of all activity after Six O’clock.”

##### SUBMITTED INTO EVIDENCE - ID Card Activity

7:16 PM - Main Door - A. Olgist  
7:23 PM - Director’s Office - A. Olgist  
7:54 PM - Service Elevator, First Floor - A. Olgist  
8:23 PM - Service Elevator, Parking Garage - A. Olgist  
9:45 PM - Security Room - A. Olgist  
9:53 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist  
10:10 PM - Service Elevator, Parking Garage - A. Olgist  
10:19 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist  
10:21 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist

Athena held the paper up high enough for Watson to read over her shoulder. _Wow, he really got around that night._ She barely had time to speed read the note before John snatched the paper out of her hands. “Hey!”

John's eyes went wide in shock as he pulled the note closer. “T-this is impossible.”

Athena blinked. “ _Que_? What is?”

“Right here.” John pointed to the 10:19 PM entry. “Before I entered the Meadow, I checked the time. This was exactly when our shootout occurred - or at least close to it, very close. I’m sure of it.”

Athena titled her head. John was right - that was impossible. “So... how did Olgist use the elevator around the time he got shot? And on the second floor, even?” _Just what’s going on here?_

Athena pounded the desk. “Objection! According to my client’s testimony - errr, Co-counsel's, or whatever - the shootout occurred at 10:19 PM! It’s impossible for Doctor Olgist to have opened the elevator door on the second floor while being murdered on the first!”

Athena expected Simon to react any number of ways to her objection. She expected shock, surprise. Maybe even nothing. Maybe he stood still and just processed how fast she dismantled his case.

Instead, he laughed quietly to himself.

John winced. “That’s... unlikely to be a good thing.”

_Oh boy. This isn’t going to be good, is it?_

Simon moved closer to his bench. He became tall, imposing. “Cykes-dono. Is this the quality of duel I am to expect?”

The judge looked towards the prosecution. “Mr. Blackquill? Do you take issue with Ms. Cykes objection?”

“My issues are too numerous to enumerate. I will begin with the most obvious first. An I.D. card is not tethered to a person’s soul, Cykes-dono. This paper merely tells us when the doors were opened, but _not_ who held the card.”

Athena frowned. She felt sweat start to accumulate on her brow, wet a sticky.  _Where is he going with this?_

“Furthermore, without evidence, the words of your cohorts are wind. Need I remind you, the testimony you cite comes from both parties accused of murder. Hardly reliable witnesses.”

Athena pounded the desk with righteous fury. Widget flickered red. “Okay then, you smug big shot! How else do you explain how Olgist opened doors while dead?”

“The Prosecution proposes the following - Sherlock Holmes entered the building at 9:45 PM. How he procured a firearm remains to be seen, but we believe he had his own. Olgist fled from Holmes using the security elevator. Holmes fired a shot and missed, and the doors closed, leaving him-“

“THE ELEVATOR!” Sherlock shouted as he shot to his feet. His coat billowed and came to a rest, propelled into motion from his sudden ascent.

John covered his face with his hands as The Judge pounded his gavel. “Mr. Holmes! What is the meaning of this outburst?”

“W-When I pursued my subject, I assumed I had cut off all avenues of escape, but due to the design of this Museum’s _blasted_ elevator, another escaped my notice!”

Simon cackled. “Oh? Is that so, World’s Greatest Detective?”

The Judge banged his gavel again. “Everyone in this courtroom is acting out of turn! Mr. Holmes, you will calm yourself. As for the rest of you, we will restore order to these proceedings. Prosecutor Blackquill, please explain yourself.”

“It is simple, your baldness. I suspect Sherlock's outburst is but a ruse. You wish for an explanation, Cykes-dono? I shall give it."

Simon leaned forward. "I do not believe Olgist was in possession of his I.D. that fateful evening. No, I believe Holmes swiped Olgist's badge during an initial altercation in the elevator, where he expended a shot that missed its mark. With the badge in his possession, it became much easier for Holmes to continue his pursuit. Now, a question for your co-counsel. Tell me, Doctor Watson, did you call out when you entered the museum?”

John pondered the question briefly. “Yes. I did. Mostly Sherlock’s name, but-”

Simon chuckled. “As I thought. Olgist, upon hearing your voice, approached to meet you - and that is when Sherlock seized the opportunity to kill his target. He prepared Sue to fall ahead of time, laying a trap for both of you. Then he ran to the balcony, drew his weapon... and we know the rest, don’t we? He kills the good Professor, and frames his own partner for the murder.”

Athena pounded the bench with an open palm three times. “Objection! Objection! _Objection!_ I can’t sit back and listen to this endless deluge of conjecture!” Athena pointed a finger towards the prosecution’s bench. “Everything Prosecutor Blackquill just said makes no sense!”

Blackquill smiled and chuckled. He placed a hawk’s feather in his mouth and began to chew. “Oh? Words are still wind, Cykes-dono! Or do you have evidence to disprove this series of events?”

John looked in Athena’s direction. “That was... an outlandish diatribe, but - I’m not sure we have anything to disprove it.”

Athena smiled. “Oh? I wouldn’t be so sure. Simon’s forgotten one very important detail. There’s a huge contradiction in his story!”

John blinked. “There is?”

“You bet!” _And I sure hope I find it before the Judge asks me to explain myself._ Blackquill tried desperately to make the pieces fit, but there was no way the truth could be so sloppy.

“Ms. Cykes, are you prepared to present evidence to disprove the prosecution’s interpretation of events?”

Athena nodded. “The Defense is ready to rock!” _I hope._

“Then what do you say?”

Athena ran the scenario through her head once, briefly, focusing on Simon’s breakdown of each gunshot.

Then she had it.

Athena popped up Widget’s screen and projected a photo in the air for a visual aid. “Your Honor, Simon. I refer you to Ema Skye’s notes on John’s firearm.”

Simon scoffed and flicked back his coat. “The browning? What of it?”

Athena flicked open a sidebar on her floating screen that contained Ema’s notes. “According to Ms. Skye, The Browning was fired twice. Our mystery gun, according to your events, was also fired twice. Once in the elevator, and once to murder Olgist. So tell me, Simon - in your scenario, where did Watson’s second bullet go?”

“Gahk!” Simon flinched backwards in shock. He clutched his chest as if Athena had cut him in twain. “I- I-”

Athena poured it on more. She threw a finger over the bench in Simon's direction. “According to you,  we should have _four_ bullets total at the scene, not three!”

Simon pounded the desk in an effort to recover. “M-Ms. Skye, is it possible for one of Watson’s bullets to have a taken a yet undiscovered trajectory?”

Ema Skye’s glasses were down again. Her mouth hung open as her body swayed forward, back to bowling pin status.  _Huh. Simon and I got so caught up arguing, I forgot she was still on the stand! Sorry, Ema._

Simon pounded the desk with both hands clenched into fists. “Ms. Skye!”

“Ahhh!” She jumped awake. Her glasses flopped askance on her head. The right lens dropped down, while the left flopped further up her head. “Ugh. I’m - I’m here. Again.”

“Ema!" Blackquill shouted loudly, in an effort to wake her up further. " Have you been paying attention?”

“Yes!” She screamed. “And no.”

“No _what_?”

“No, there’s _no_ way a fourth bullet is unaccounted for. Even if the shooter somehow took the bullet from the scene, there should be evidence of another shot _somewhere_. ”

“Well, there it is.” Said Simon. “Perhaps this fourth bullet struck something it failed to penetrate, and Sherlock hid evidence while staging the scene.”

For the first time since the trial began, Athena smirked. Simon was so eager to make his theory work, he'd fallen into a trap Athena and Wright fell into regularly. Now it was her turn to use the prosecution's own trick against them.  “I suppose that is possible, Simon. But this is _your_ proposed theory, not mine - the burden of proof is on the prosecution.”

Simon’s eyes went wide with shock before The Judge even spoke. He knew what was coming.

The Judge set down his gavel. It lightly thunked on the bench. “She is correct, Mr. Blackquill. Do you have evidence to suggest a fourth bullet existed at the scene?”

A shocked Simon was a rare sight. He wrapped his knuckles on the prosecution bench twice, stalling for time. Finally, Simon sat up and crossed his arms. “Hmpfh. Cykes-Dono.”

Athena winced. “Y-yes?”

“Even without your Daimyo present, you bested me. I underestimated you. This is not a mistake I will make again.”

The Judge leaned back in surprise. “Mr. Blackquill, do you mean to say-“

“I am forced to abandon my offensive, your baldness. As Ms. Cykes as proven, the facts do not support my claim... for now.”

Athena leaned back and crossed her arms. She tried to contain her joy, but she could feel a growing smile anyway. Widget chirped, revealing her smug joy. _That’ll teach you to treat me like a child, Blackquill! Eat some humble pie! Eat it!_

John grinned. “Impressive, Athena. Off to a much better start than your boss.”

“ _Grazie_!” _Now let’s see if I can end it better too._

Simon spit the hawk feather out of his mouth. It floated through the air, wobbling down in front of his bench. "If we lack enough evidence to deduce the story on our own, perhaps we best hear what the defendant has to say for himself. The prosecution calls Sherlock Holmes to the stand!”

The galley became awash with hushed whispers and conversations. The Judge pounded the gavel twice and the banter dimmed out. “Ms. Ema Skye, you may step down. Sherlock Holmes, please step into the witness stand.”

Sherlock stole a brief glance around the courtroom before stepping out of his stand. “You mean step three feet to my left? Very well.”

As Sherlock stepped out of his stand, Ema made her way down the aisle. She took the first open spot, slumped onto the shoulder of the gentleman next to her, and fell asleep.

 

### Testimony: Sherlock Holmes

Blackquill placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. There was a rustling of feathers somewhere in the courthouse, and soon Taka descended from somewhere on high. He perched on Simon’s shoulder and received two quick chin scratches as a reward for obeying orders. “Name and occupation for the record. And if you fail to avoid yesterday’s foolishness, Taka here will keep you in line.”

If Blackquill was trying to intimidate Sherlock, it didn’t work. Holmes kept a stern face, as always, and offered no reaction. “Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective.”

“Excellent. We may proceed.” Blackquill tilted his head with a grin. “For the record, I believe the accused words carry the same weight as one of Taka’s feathers. If the world-famous detective wishes to convince us otherwise, now is the chance.”

“Your office questioned me all night to no avail, why would now be any different?”

Blackquill folded his arms. “Because now, I am trusting in your defense and his baldness to keep you honest.”

Athena gulped. _If only Simon knew we all perjured ourselves yesterday, he might not be so trusting of us._

Blackquill gave Taka a one-finger head scratch. “Now. Detective. Begin with your account of the evening.”

Sherlock looked in Athena’s direction, nodded, and began. “John and I arrived at our hotel around 7:30 - front desk will confirm the exact time. At 8:11, I popped out to the shop. While en route, I received a text from Doctor Olgist that suggested he was in immediate danger and I altered course for the museum. It is around this time I also messaged Watson.”

The Judge nodded. “I see. Has the prosecution obtained the defendant's text history?”

Simon scoffed. “With no help from the witness. Upon confiscation of his phone, we discovered all data had been wiped. However, a copy of their correspondence remained on Olgist’s cell. We have a copy for the court.”

##### SUBMITTED INTO EVIDENCE -- Olgist’s text history

Athena looked at the printout. This was a lengthy conversation, one that appeared to have taken place across many days.

**Olgist. This is Holmes. You’ve had email correspondence with my partner, Watson. Have you examined the evidence list yet? - S.H.**

I have. Deeply concerning to think one of my former students could be capable of such a thing. - A.O.

Don’t feel. Think. Your class is the only connection both victims had. Who had the motive? - S.H.

 

That was the end of the first conversation. It resumed a day later.

 

**I have a few key POIs for you. Feel uncomfortable discussing further via text. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting? There's an opening gala for Sue, and we would be delighted to have you. - A.O.**

**Discuss further with John. - S.H.**

 

Athena glanced at John out of the corner of her eye. “Is he not a fan of travel?”

John shook his head. “He’s not a fan of... other people. After this, Olgist invited us out to see the new installation, and we arranged our meeting for the night before.”

Athena nodded. “I see.”

The texts resumed on March 2nd, the day of the murder. The first message arrived in the afternoon, while the second was sent at 8:56 PM.

**\-- 11:54 AM --**   
**Holmes. Did digging. May know the identity of your attacker. Possibly a close associate. Speak more on this tonight. - A.O.**

**\-- 8:56 PM --**   
**They know. - A.O.**   
**They'reHere. - A.O.**   
**Armed. - A.O.**

 

“Why didn’t Sherlock call the police instead of rushing into danger?” Athena asked.

John tilted his head, a single finger on his forehead. “You know, sometimes I forget you’ve only known Sherlock a day.”

Blackquill leaned forward over his bench. “Now then, Holmes. Continue! What time did you arrive at the museum?”

Sherlock leaned forward and placed his hands on the bench. His fingers bounced along the railing in rapid succession. “You know the answer to this.”

Blackquill smirked. “Ah, but your defense does not.”

Sherlock sighed. His fingers curled around the top of the stand. “I arrived around 9:30 PM and entered through the window.”

Blackquill laughed and slapped his Prosecutor’s bench as though he’d heard a funny joke. “There you have it, Your Baldness.”

The Judge blinked. “What’s this? I do? What do I have?”

“The first lie. Surely you see it, Cykes-dono? The hole in your client’s testimony.”

Athena flicked her earring. _I don’t like this... I feel like our roles are totally_ reversed _here!_

The judge looked towards the defense’s bench. “Well then, Ms. Cykes. Surely you can explain whatever it is Mr. Blackquill is talking about?”

“Of course, your honor.” Athena nodded, doing her best to contain her frustration with how the Twisted Samurai himself had engineered a way to make her poke holes in her own client’s testimony. _Wright always says if you believe in your client, every contradiction erased only brings you closer to the truth. I sure hope he’s right._

Athena stood tall, tapped Widget to bring up her screen, and scrolled to her notes on the broken window. “According to this, the Meadow’s silent alarm tripped at 9:45 PM - fifteen minutes after when Sherlock claims to have arrived.”

Light chatter erupted in the courtroom, then died out.

Athena pointed towards Holmes. “Sherlock Holmes. Did you shatter the window upon entry?”

Sherlock responded curtly. “No.”

“So... did you enter another way?”

“What? Goodness no. I went in through the window.”

Athena tilted her head and pondered his statement. _He’s trying to get me to ask the right question. But why?_ “Was... was the window already shattered when you arrived?”

Sherlock smirked. “Yes.”

The galley chatter began again, this time louder, more obnoxious. _Wait, so the window’s alarm tripped at 9:45, but it shattered before 9: 30? Isn’t this impossible?_ The judge pounded his gavel to regain control of the room. As he did, Athena flicked her earring.

John’s hand reached up and covered his forehead. “He’s not making it bloody easy to save him, is he?”

Athena didn’t answer. She just flicked her earring, again and again.  _I don't think Sherlock is lying, but his statement doesn't line up with our evidence. So if I trust him, then... that would mean..._

“Athena? What is it?”

The din in the galley finally died down. As it did, a thought crystalized.   _9:45 PM... why do I feel like I’ve seen that time somewhere else?_ She began sifting through her digitized documents in widget, looking for something familiar.

Simon seized the opportunity to take the floor. He crossed his arms and leaned back as he spoke. “You see, your baldness? The defendant’s testimony is an impossible sham. Or are we to believe this silent alarm has a fifteen-minute delay?”

“Hmmmm.” The Judge stroked his beard. “I must admit, this testimony seems outlandish. To think the world’s greatest detective would also be the world’s worst liar. Miss Cykes, do you have any explanation for your defendant’s claim?”

Athena found what she was looking for. She closed widget and smiled wide, eager to regain control of the courtroom. “Actually, Simon, the alarm _did_ have a fifteen-minute delay.”

Blackquill laughed. “Cykes-dono. Have you caught your client’s malaise? What an absurd claim.”

“Oh? Everyone, Please refer to the ID card log. The 5th entry.”

Blackquill whistled for Taka, who descended on high with the I.D. Log in his talons. _How does Taka always know which document he wants, I wonder?_  Blackquill grabbed the form and looked. “9:45 PM, Security Room. And?”

Athena leaned forward and gripped the bench, frustrated with Simon’s deliberate denseness. “And? And I don’t believe in coincidences, Simon! At exactly 9:45 PM, both the silent alarm tripped, _and_ someone entered the security room.”

“Cykes-dono! Cease with the vacuous claims! What - with no ambiguity - are you claiming?”

_What am I claiming? I know these two things have to be related, but how?_

In the witnesses bench, Sherlock blinked in her direction. Once they made eye contact, he glanced down towards his hand. Without raising his hand above the waist, he extended one thumb and wiggled it back and forth.

_A thumbs up? Is he trying to tell me that... I’m on the right track?_

“Miss Cykes,” the judge said, “I must concur with Blackquill. What do you believe is the connection between these two pieces of evidence you’ve presented?”

 _Okay, I know Wright told me not to stab around in the dark, but I don’t know what else to do here. Dark, watch out! Here comes my stabbin’!_ "Well, um, let’s suppose there was a way to disable the silent alarm. Then while disabled, someone smashes the window. I bet if the alarm were re-enabled, it would only detect and record the broken window once turned back on!”

Simon guffawed. He pounded his prosecution bench three times as he chortled, until Taka found his perch far too mobile for his tastes and departed for the rafters. “Cykes-dono. Have you brought a bokken to a swordfight? What addle-minded conjecture is this? All the suppose's and while's in the world won’t make it true.”

Athena put on a scowl.  _Like your explanation of events was any better, Simon!_   “M-maybe not, but it would explain why whoever had Olgist’s badge suddenly made a trip to the security room at 9:45 PM! The reason the times coincide is because they re-enabled the alarm to falsify the museum's internal time record!”

Simon contained himself and stood up. “To what end? Why would the murderer seek to alert authorities?”

 _Hmm. I see where this ends now, but this makes even less sense! What’s going on?_ There was no stopping now, not without significant penalties. _Well, here we go._ “B-because their patsy showed up, that’s why! Sherlock Holmes entered the building, so they tripped the alarm and planned to skeedaddle themselves, leaving him to be caught in their stead!”

Blackquill shook his head. “Your suppositional is preposterous! Why did they not depart then?”

Sherlock pounded the witness stand. “Me, that’s why.”

Athena had been sparring with Simon for so long, Sherlock’s answer completely derailed all her focus.

“Yes, well,” The Judge said, “This has been very exciting, you two, but perhaps we should allow the witness to actually give testimony?”

“Thank you, your honor,” said Sherlock. “When I first arrived, I spotted the poltergeist emerging from the security room. They walked towards the wall, an act I could not make sense of until today. They were heading towards-”

John interjected. “-The Elevator.”

“Yes John, precisely. But then they spotted me, and what proceeded was a chase through the museum in which I lost our cloaked figure. We circled back around to the main foyer... and then John arrived.”

“Bah,” said Simon, “Still you try to forge a blade will no steel. your baldness, surely you have not forgotten what is required in a court of law?”

The Judge shook his head. “I have not, Mr. Blackquill, and we will soon find out if Ms. Cykes remembers as well.”

_Uh oh. We will?_

The Judge gave a stern glare to the defense’s bench. “Ms. Cykes, do you have any evidence to corroborate this theory?”

Athena responded by turning to John.

John shrugged and asked, “Well, ah... do we?”

 _Okay, so the Doctor’s no help here. Think Athena, think! I believe Sherlock is telling the truth! Does any of our evidence prove the window was shattered sooner than the alarm suggests?_ John poured over their physical documents, while Athena cycled through Widget. She studied the photos of the window, hoping to find something in the exterior that would show time - nothing existed.

Athena whispered to John, “anything?”

John looked over with wide eyes and shook his head.

 _So we have nothing?_ Across the room, Simon leaned against the wall, waiting patiently with a smirk on his face. _Grrrr…. I wish I could run over there and smack him one._

John set everything down. “Maybe we need a new approach?”

“Ms. Cykes,” said the Judge, “the court only has so much patience to test. Now, can you prove your client's theory true, or not?”

Simon continued to annoyingly smirk while Athena twisted around inside. _Think Athena! There has to be a way. Maybe I’m going about this all wrong. Maybe the right question isn’t what could prove it, but who?_

“Ms. Cykes? Your answer please.”

Athena shook her head. “ I can’t prove it...”

Simon guffawed loudly. “As expected. The better part of an hour wasted on baseless sophistry.”

“...But, the defense knows _someone_ who could reveal the truth. The defense calls Priscilla Graves - very briefly - to the stand!”

The gallery went alive with noise and commotion once more. Across the way, the smile on Simon’s face vanished.  _Prendi quello, Simon!_

“Order! Order!” The Judge pounded his gavel until the clamour turned to a din. “This name sounds familiar.”

Athena crossed her arms and leaned back, feeling a swell of confidence again. “As head of security at the Meadow Museum, she’s in a position to know if the defense’s claim is possible!”

The Judge nodded. “Very well. For now, I will declare a brief recess. Court will reconvene when Priscilla Graves arrives.” The judge banged his gavel twice.

“Ah, it’s gonna be a short recess, your honor” said a voice in the back. A redheaded figure stood up, clad in a black jumpsuit. “I’m already here.”

### (Brief) Witness Testimony: Priscilla Graves

Simon cleared his throat. “Ahem. W-witness. Name and occupation.”

Priscilla smiled. Her right arm went down to her side and pulled out her training pistol.

The Judge’s eyebrows went wide as he ducked under the bench. “B-B-bailiff! The witness is armed!”

Simon chuckled. “No need to go into hiding, your baldness. The witnesses’s blade is a kendo stick at best - a training pistol, designed to accustom the new security staff to hauling extra weight for when the real blades arrive.”

The judge re-emerged from under the bench. “O-of course. I see. Merely a training pistol then.”

Priscilla spun the pistol with her left hand, just as she had before. Her right hand remained tucked against her side, across her body. “If the fun’s over, I’d like to get started. My name’s-”

Sherlock interrupted from the defendant’s stand. “Pardon me, Ms. Graves, but are you left-handed?”

Priscilla stopped spinning her gun. “What? No.”

The Judge banged his gavel once. “Mr. Holmes, you will respect the order of my courtroom. I will have you removed again, if necessary.”

“Of course, your honor.” Holmes did as he promised and quietly stood in place.

Athena tilted her head, pondering Sherlock’s sudden interruption. _What was that all about? Why does her dominant hand matter?_

“A-anyway,” Priscilla continued, “Name’s Priscilla Graves. I’m head of security at the Meadow Museum.”

The judge leaned towards the witness stand. “And have you been following the case so far today?”

“I have, your honor. I’ve been here since this morning..”

Athena pointed a finger in her direction. “Great! Then you know what we need to know. Ms. Graves, is it possible to disable the silent alarm?”

Across the room, Simon leaned forward. His hands gripped the bench in anticipation.

“About that.” Priscilla used her training pistol to push her security cap up, an act that caused Watson to physically wince in pain. “Not only is it possible, but I know for a fact the silent alarm system _was_ disabled the night before the murder.”

“W-Whaaaat! Gah!” Simon lurched backwards. He clutched his chest with an open hand. “Ms. Graves! Explain yourself!”

“Mr. Carver, our Director, put in an order to change all our security systems during the installation. Cameras, alarms, the whole shebang. The night before the murder, our silent alarms were disabled during the upgrade.”

Simon pounded his desk. “And when was this new system reactivated?”

Priscilla shrugged. “No idea. I wasn’t working those days, I've been on vacation. Came back to a fine mess! But, what I _can_ tell you is the installation of our new alarm system wasn’t supposed to be finished until Sue’s opening tomorrow morning. Archie himself - or whoever had his badge last night, at least - must’ve activated it early to call the police.”

“N-Nooo way!” Simon stumbled backwards until he hit the wall. “What madness has taken this courtroom!?”

_No way! We were right? But that means… If the silent alarm was disabled, the real killer could’ve entered the building at any point after closing. That would mean-_

SImon pounded his desk with two closed fists, a fire in his eyes. “What a jest! So the window could’ve been broken all day? And _anyone_ could enter unchecked? What good is your alarm then!? And you!” Simon turned to the Galley. “Miss Skye! How did this escape your notice?”

Ema was too busy snoozing to respond.

Simon poked his forehead with his pointer finger. “I’ll see to it our fine detectives answer for this blunder. In the meantime, Ms. Graves, you may step down.”

Priscilla holstered her plastic gun. “Alright, thanks.”

 

* * *

 

The Judge blinked. “So where does this leave your case, Simon?”

Simon pounded his desk three times. _Thud, thud, thud._ “It leaves us with _further_ infeasibilities! Cykes-dono!”

Athena had been lost in thought, trying to recontextualize what a disabled silent alarm might mean for the rest of the evidence. Simon’s gruff voice brought her back to the courtroom. “Eek! I mean, yes?”

“Answer me this.” Simon flicked up his wrist, twisted his palm up, and extended an open hand towards the defense bench. “If a mysterious assailant _did_ enter the building before your defendant, why would they wait until 10:19 to kill the professor?”

Athena flicked her earring. This was the question she’d been wrestling with since Priscilla confirmed her theory, and she hadn’t arrived at an answer yet. “I, uh. Maybe an opportunity hadn’t... presented itself?”

Simon pounded the desk once more. “Cykes-dono! Answer the question with earnest or not at all! I will not accept weak-spirited swings! Or do you honestly believe the killer found better chances amid two unexpected interlopers?”

Watson leaned closer. “Well, he’s right. Except for one thing, isn’t he?”

Athena turned towards her co-counsel. “Tell me ya got something, Doc, because my own case makes no sense to me right now.”

John scratched the bridge of his nose. “We weren’t exactly unexpected, now were we? Sherlock and I. Olgist knew we were coming.”

_Hmmm, he’s right. Whoever killed Olgist would’ve had access to both his I.D. badge and his phone. They could’ve gone through it and seen his-_

Everything clicked in place at once. Athena grabbed the sides of her face in shock. “ _M-Mon Dieeeeeu!_ ”

The Judge banged his gavel once. “Ms. Cykes! Contain yourself. What’s come over you?”

I - I _can hardly believe this, but - if this is true, it changes everything we know about this case._ “Simon, I’m prepared to answer your question. First, however, I have one for Holmes and Watson. Both of you _saw_ Olgist, correct?”

Sherlock Holmes leaned forward. “Yes.”

Watson next. “Y-yes?”

Athena crossed her arms. “But... did you hear him? Did he say hello, or greetings, or _bien_ to either of you?”

John and Sherlock stared at each other across the room. John remained clueless, but a realization dawned on Sherlock. He lept into the air, and smiled for the first time since the proceedings began.

“Oh. Oh!” Sherlock yelled. His hands flailed into the air. “My word, I - I was so focused on catching the mysterious figure, that I - how did I miss this? You, Ms. Cykes, you are my barrister in perpetuity.”

 _Don’t blush Athena, keep it cool._ “I appreciate the sentiment, Holmes, but I don’t have any jurisdiction in the U.K.”

The Judge blinked. “Uh. Ms. Cykes, would you please put more work into explaining your theory to the people who aren’t your defendant?”

Across the room, Simon smoldered. He leaned back and crossed his arms, eyes full of fire. “Do I even wish to hear whatever foolish tale you’re about to weave?”

“You better believe it!” Athena grinned wide. _Get ready Simon, because I’m about to turn this whole thing around. Kiss your case arrivederci!_ “The answer to your question, Simon, is the killer didn’t wait until 10:19 PM.”

Simon’s arms unfolded. He leaned forward against his bench. “Cykes-dono, you aren’t seriously suggesting...”

Athena nodded. “I am. John and Sherlock never had a chance to save Olgist, because by the time they entered the building, he was already dead!”

Athena flung her pointer finger across the bench as the gallery exploded in an uproar. _This is the truth! It has to be!_

Simon slammed his fists on the bench. “I- gah!” He slouched over, gripping onto the bench for support. “Absurd!”

The Judge pounded his gavel repeatedly. The clamor of voices quieted, but never ceased. “Order! Order! Ms. Cykes, this theory you’re proposing - why, it's even _more_ outlandish than your defendant's earlier claim!”

Athena nodded. “I understand, your honor, but it’s the only explanation of the facts! Once you’ve eliminated the impossible, what remains must be true, however improbable.” Athena glanced in John’s direction with a smirk. “Read that on a blog somewhere.” Athena glanced down towards the floor twice in an attempt to draw John's attention.

His eyes glanced down, where Athena held out an open palm.

John returned the low-five.

The Judge continued. “If that is the case, then surely you have some proof to back up your claim?”

Simon scoffed. “The Bald One speaks true. Both your clients claim to have seen Olgist the night of his murder! Just how do you explain that a dead man walked?”

Athena pounded a fist into her glove again. She had an answer ready to go. _I knew that rope felt out of place! I knew it._ Athena brought up her holo screen and scrolled to the rope. “John testified he saw Olgist waiting for him under Sue as he approached. During our investigation, we found this rope lying amid the scattered bones. I believe this rope braced Doctor Olgist's body against Sue to create the illusion he was still alive! The museum was dark by design - that way, Sherlock and John wouldn’t notice anything was wrong until they approached. When Sherlock cut the statue loose, Olgist’s body came tumbling down, and the rope remained behind!”

Simon snarled. “More evidence passed over by our third-rate constabulary. Nevertheless, your leap in logic is considerable, Cykes-dono. Might I remind you, Sue’s installation was ongoing earlier in the day. How do you know this rope wasn’t merely leftover supplies some absent-minded foreman forgot to return?”

“I don’t. Yet.” Athena turned her eyes toward the gallery, searching for the receiver she needed to catch her hail mary. “Yo! Ema! Wake up!”

Ema Skye’s body rose slowly, like a reed no longer under the influence of the wind. “I... ugh. Five more minutes please.”

 _Sorry Ema, but I need you more awake than that. Time to put all that Chords of Steel training with Apollo to use._ “Sorry Ema, no can do! Because I need you to perform a luminol test on this rope!”

 

* * *

 

The judge waited in anticipation. “And, Ms. Skye? The results?”

Ema held the rope in her hands. “..The luminol test is positive. Someone _definitely_ bled on this rope.”

“Gah!” Across the way, Simon lurched over his bench again. “I-I don’t understand. What is this mummer’s farce?” Simon composed himself. “Hmpf. It would seem, Cykes-dono, your theory becomes more tenable by the minute. Let us say you are correct. Olgist was not of small stature. Do you claim your killer to be of superhuman strength, to lift _and_ tie his corpse simultaneously?”

Athena had already thought of this one, too. She smirked. “Why Simon, when strength fails to do the job, humans always turn to tools.”

Simon laughed. “What now? Did the killer rig a hoist as well?”

“Of course not. They didn't have to. The appropriate tool was already there. It’s like you said, Simon - the installation was still underway.” Athena pulled up her holo screen again, and quickly flipped through her images until she found the Storage Area Photo. “Note the position of this dolly. Everything else has some semblance of order, but this dolly sure looks like it was thrown here in a hurry, doesn't it?”

Simon gripped the lapels of his coat. “Gods...”

Athena nodded. _This is it. Go in for the kill!_ “That’s right. What better way to keep a body standing while tying it up? Once Olgist was in place, all they had to do was slip the dolly out, wash it off, and return it to the storage area.” Athena threw out her pointer finger. “At this time, the defense requests another luminol test on the dolly!”

Ema Skye yanked out her phone to call her forensic team. “One luminol test, coming up!”

 

* * *

 

Ema Skye finished up her call. “The results are conclusive - the dolly lit up like landing lights!”

_Athena crossed her arms and beamed. I knew it! We’re on a roll here!_

Even John, who’d been full of worry since Athena met him, couldn’t contain his joy with how things were going. “What your court system lacks in decorum, it certainly makes up in excitement.”

“Tell me about it, Athena said, “the momentum’s in our favor now!”

“Hmmm.” The Judge pondered from the bench. “This is truly extraordinary. It would seem the defense has proven Olgist was murdered earlier than any of us initially thought.”

Across the room, Simon had composed himself. No longer was he curled over his bench like an angry, wounded dog. He stood tall with a stern, straight face... and a slight smirk? _What’s going on over there?_

The Judge also noticed Blackquill’s sudden calmness. “Mr. Blackquill, I must say, you are... curiously at ease, considering how much this damages your case.”

Simon tilted his head and smirked. He leaned back further, resting casually against the back wall. “I am merely along for the charade for now, your baldness.”

The Judge stroked his beard. “Why, if this is true, he must have died only moments after sending his last message!”

Athena leaned forward, ready to explain the clue that tipped her off to this possibility in the first place.

But Simon had other plans. “Now now Ms. Cykes, you’ve held the floor a considerable amount of time. Allow me to see if I know your next argument. The attacker entered the building and killed Doctor Olgist long before the silent alarm went off, yes? Then it stands to reason the defense's mysterious killer then had access to both Olgist’s I.D. Card... and phone.”

The Judge’s eyebrows raised. “Oh, I see!”

John leaned close to Athena. “Is it just me, or is the walking Kurosawa film over there building your case for you?”

Athena frowned back.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Athena leaned over the bench and felt all her enthusiasm pour out. “Just wait, Doctor. In my experience, Simon only builds up the defense's case if he’s knows how to knock it down.”

Simon continued, crossing his arms as they spoke. “What you were about to say, Cykes-dono, is this poltergeist killed Olgist and purloined his phone, whereupon they had access to his text history. And, once they were done staging the scene, posed as the late Doctor via text, summoned Sherlock hence, who in turn, called for John. The intention, I assume, to make them take the fall. Now, have I appropriately summarized your proposed course of events?”

Athena paused as she re-examined his words with greater scrutiny, hoping to find something worth adjusting. Nothing jumped out. “Ye-yeah. That all, um - it’s accurate.” 

“Good.” Simon leaned forward, leaving the support of the wall. “Then, here’s the question you must answer next, Cykes-dono - who is your true suspect?”

John and Athena shared a sideways glance. This was it. The moment they'd waited for. A chance to use their secret weapon. _Simon has no idea what we’ve got in store._ “Now’s the time, John!”

“Right!” John reached below the desk and produced the massive stack of research drafts they’d found in a hidden drawer. Simon’s smirk faded, and even Sherlock recoiled at the sight of a metric ton of paper. In truth, the stack had doubled since they found it; John and Athena prepared a copy for Simon ahead of time.

John let the stack fall on the bench with a mighty _thud_. “Ahem. Might I suggest a recess so Mr. Blackquill has time to peruse our newly submitted evidence?”

The Judge’s gavel fell from his hand. “Why, with all this, we may need to recess for half a day! What evidence is this?”

Athena crossed her arms and smiled wide. “During the course of our investigation, we discovered Doctor Olgist engaged in extortion. He bribed students for their research and claimed it as his own!”

“Urk!” Simon recoiled. His eyes studied the stack of pages from a distance. “In-inconceivable! And these documents-”

John poked the stack with the tip of his finger. “They’re academic journals. The unpublished copies students submitted, before Olgist paid them off and attached his name.”

Sherlock clapped his hands together. “You recognized them immediately, didn’t you John?”

“I, uh-” John stammered. “Yes, I uh, I did.”

“Oh John,” Sherlock said, his fingertips still together. “Bless your boring years in academia.”

“Ah, I...” John trailed off and blinked a few times. Sherlock’s passing comment completely derailed him.

 _Great. Thanks for breaking my co-counsel, Sherlock._ Athena picked up the slack. She thrust a finger out across the bench. “The defense proposes our true culprit's name is among one of these extorted students!”

“Hmmmm.” The Judge stroked his beard. “In light of the... volume of work dumped upon Mr. Blackquill, I have decided to accept the defense’s proposal. Court will reconvene in fifteen minutes!” The Judge took hold of his gavel and pounded twice.

As everyone else shuffled out, Simon curled over the bench. One hand gripped the edge, while another formed a fist and pounded down. “A dirty trick, Cykes-dono.”


	18. Trial, Day 2 - Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athena survived her first clash with The Twisted Samurai, but the day has only begun. Before setting foot in the courtroom for round 2, Athena steals a moment to check in with Wright.

#### COURTROOM NO. 2

#### MARCH 4TH 12:15 PM

Once in the lobby, Athena wasted no time. She clicked widget and brought up her holo-screen. Her finger quickly scrolled to Wright’s name.

_Calling..._

_Come on, boss man! Pick up, Pick up!_ On the third ring, he did.

_“Athena! I was just about to leave a message. We’re fifteen minutes out. How’s the trial going?”_

“Well!” She said. “ _Too_ well. Simon’s been strangely quiet.”

_“He’s always quiet.”_

Athena’s eyes drooped to a sarcastic slant. “It’s a different quiet. The kind before the stab. But who cares? Tell me what you found out from Lestrade! Quick!”

_“It’s not much, I'm afraid. For all the secrecy, there wasn’t much to keep secret. Here’s what we know - Chelsea and Milo weren’t at Pembroke alone. They were joined by other classmates.”_

_Bingo! We've been on the right track!_ One of these other classmates had to be the real culprit. Athena felt like dancing inside. It was only when she looked up to an awkward glance from Watson she realized she’d been dancing on the outside, too. She got her swaying hips under control. “Ahem. Who were they? Any specific names?”

_“Veronica Dane and Longhi Park. A few others were in town, too. Sounds like there was a reunion of some kind going on. There’s something else, though.”_

What’s that?”

_“Doctor Olgist made separate travel arrangements. According to his calendar, he had a meeting with the owners of Pembroke castle about current preservation efforts. It happened to coincide with his student’s visit.”_

_Hmmmm._ Athena flicked her earring. _That’s an awful big coincidence. Maybe Olgist was the real target then?_ “Thanks, boss! This is just what we needed!”

_“We’ll be in court with official statements and additional paperwork from Lestrade soon. Good luck in there.”_

“Don’t worry, I’m on it! I’ll keep the bench warm for ya!” Athena pounded a fist into her palm, forgetting that such an action while on a call would tell widget to hang up. Wright blipped away, leaving only empty space in the air. 

“Whoopsie,” Athena said as she tapped widget and closed the screen. _We were mostly done anyway._

John and Sherlock hovered nearby. John was the first to ask the obvious question. “So, ah, what did Lestrade have to say?”

“It’s Lestrade, John,” said Sherlock. “It doesn’t matter what he says.”

Athena smiled. “Don’t worry, guys! We’ll pull this off - I think.” Athena flicked her earrings again as she pondered out loud. “There’s still too many unsolved mysteries to get comfortable. Still no sign of the other gun, a mysterious bullet in an equally mysterious elevator, and worse yet, I still don’t know who to name as the real suspect.”

“All truths in due time, Ms. Cykes,” said Sherlock, “And due time is now. Your friend across the bench...”

“Who, Simon?”

“He's let you have the floor for a while now, wouldn’t you say?”

Athena shrugged. “I - I suppose?”

As if summoned by their conversation, Simon walked by. Sherlock's gaze stayed on him as he opened the doors to the courtroom. “If we return to court and Mr. Blackquill hands you the reigns once more, I would advise caution. There are further machinations at play, I am sure of it, but I cannot tell what. Not yet.”

Athena nodded. Her instincts had told her something felt off. If Holmes saw it too, there was no doubt about it; The Twisted Samurai had to be up to something devious.


	19. Trial, Day 2 - The Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Court enters its final session. The future of Baker Street lies in the Wright Agency's hands.

#### COURTROOM NO. 2

#### MARCH 4TH, 12:30 PM

“Order! Order!” The Judge banged his gavel with each word. “The Trial of Sherlock Holmes will now reconvene. Mr. Blackquill, have you had adequate time to review the defense’s evidence?”

Simon crossed his arms and smirked. “I have, your honor.”

“And, ah...” The Judge blinked. He waited a few moments longer, expecting more, but Simon simply stood and brooded.  “Do you have any thoughts on the matter?”

Simon chortled. “I do, your baldness, but Cykes-dono has been eager to construct her house of cards. Who am I to blow them over?”

“The... the prosecution?” answered the Judge, who seemed to think Simon's rhetorical question needed an answer.

Athena and Sherlock shared a knowing glance. Just as the famous baker street detective warned, Simon eagerly handed Athena the floor once again. _Simon... just what are you scheming over there?_

Blackquill crossed his arms. The stupid smirk remained. “Perhaps you need some prompting to get started once again, Cykes-dono. I shall begin with the most obvious. There are many names on this pile of dead trees you've plunked on my desk. Who does the defense name as their true culprit? Or perhaps you've mistaken the Meadow Museum for the Orient Express?”

_Great. Now Simon’s dunking on me with old books. Thanks to Mr. Wright though, we have an answer for Simon's snark!_ “Actually, the defense has narrowed it down to two potential suspects.” Athena’s arm shot up with a triumphant pointer finger extended. “ Veronica Dane and Longhi Park!”

A loud shuffling caused Athena’s attention to turn towards the galley. Dana Stapes had shot up at the sound of a familiar name. “Veronica _Dane_?” She called out across the room. “Are - are you sure?”

The Judge pounded his gavel. “Miss, I must ask you to not interfere with our trial! Unless called to give testimony, you are not to speak out. Is that clear?”

Dana nodded, her eyes wide in shock. She dipped down and disappeared back into the gallery. _Sorry, Dana. I know she meant something to you, but I can’t ignore the truth._

The Judge turned back towards the defense. “Now then, Ms. Cykes, I trust you know what is required next.”

Athena nodded. “Of course, your honor. Evidence. Both Longhi Park and Veronica Dane were present during the Pembroke murders! Mr. Wright is on his way now with proper documentation, as is Mr. Edgeworth. I doubt Simon is going to object to evidence his own boss is working to obtain.”

The Judge turned to the prosecution. “Mr. Blackquill, you’ve been... strangely quiet. Is it true? Have you no objections?”

Simon leaned against the back wall, his arms behind his head. “Only a question for Cykes-dono, your baldness. Tell me, young bushi. Where did you find this impressive pile of evidence?”

Athena crossed her arms and smirked. “A secret compartment in Doctor Olgist’s desk!”

Simon shook his head, still casually resting against the wall. “Not quite, Cykes-Dono. You are half-right. The drawer did not belong to Doctor Olgist - it belonged to Director Carver.”

“I - uh.” Athena tried to come up with a reason that would matter, but all she arrived at was _so what?_ She tilted her head to the side and shrugged. “Okay? We already knew they shared an office. I don't see why who's drawer it is matters. ”

Simon chuckled. “A foolish fledgling you are indeed, Cykes-dono. You stumbled upon the answer to a mystery that plagued both our cases from the start and failed to recognize it.”

“I - I did?”

“Tell me, fledgling. What would one normally keep in a hidden compartment? Or did you really think Olgist kept evidence of his grand conspiracy in a shared desk?”

_Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it at all_ , Athena realized. She’d been too excited about finding actual, proper evidence. _What’s Simon mean? What else is normally hidden away in_  -

John Watson interrupted her thought. “Oh, of course!”

Athena’s head whipped back and forth between John and Simon, who seemed to be on the same page now. She remained clueless. “I - _pardon_? what are we talking about here?”

“A gun.” Watson said. “If you were looking to hide a small gun for personal protection nearby, a hidden compartment in a desk is the place to keep it.”

Sherlock spoke up from his defense stand. “Mr. Carver kept a firearm. In his desk?”

Simon chuckled. “I too, made some calls during the break. One to our forensic team, who discovered an empty compartment, and another to one Director Carver who confirmed he owns a Beretta... one he kept in this false bottom.”

Sherlock blinked. “And did you ask Mr. Carver how often a concealed firearm is necessary for his line of work as _Museum Director_?”

Blackquill’s smirk vanished, but he offered no answer.

John turned his attention back to Athena. “Care to guess what type of ammunition a Beretta takes?”

Athena felt more pieces of the truth click in place. “Nine millimeter.”

John's head turned back towards Simon, staring across the courtroom. “I daresay the prosecution has discovered our second firearm.”

Blackquill shook his head. “We have yet to locate the gun itself. However, we now know how another gun ended up at the scene.”

“Hmmm.” The Judge said, “this is a considerable development. Excellent work, Mr. Blackquill.”

“Bah,” he responded. “I merely made two calls.”

Athena flicked her earring as she pondered this new information. _So how did all those papers end up in the secret gun drawer? And where did all these original drafts come from in the first place?_ Athena felt a step closer, but the truth still eluded her.

##### ADDED TO COURT RECORD - Carver’s Pistol

Blackquill snapped his finger. “Now then, if we may return to the defense's suspects. Allow me to see if I can accurately predict your proposed motives. ”

Athena pounded a fist into her glove. “Have at me!”

Simon snickered. “Olgist extorted and bribed his students for fame, yes? Then, years later, realizing they’d been duped and out of vengeance or a twisted sense of justice, one of these two students emerges to fatally end Olgist’s academic racketeering. Am I correct so far?”

Athena reviewed his statements in her mind. Nothing stood out. She nodded. “Yes, that is an accurate summation.”

“Heh.” Simon raised his head. “Very well then. Tell me this, Cykes-dono - why would a student determined to kill their old mentor first cut down two sightseeing colleagues, three thousand miles away?”

Athena flicked her earring. _Oh, right. Why would they?_ “Uh... maybe it was an accident?”

Simon's hand raised to cover his eyes. “Cykes-dono. If you do not know, merely say, ‘I do not know.’ Or do you mean to suggest your murderer mistook two people for one?”

Something in Athena’s peripheral caught her attention. Sherlock's arm moved to rest over the railing. His right hand extended two fingers. Athena’s gaze rose to meet his eyes. Sherlock looked like he was thinking something in her direction so hard, you could use his forehead as a stovetop.

_Two? Two what?_

The Judge’s voice brought Athena back to the bench. “Miss Cykes, are you suggesting you have proof Milo and Chelsea were accidents?"

Simon answered for her. “Don’t bother, your honor. I’ll save Cykes-dono the embarrassing bluff. The two individuals the defense has named could not have committed all three murders.”

Athena leaned forward and gripped her desk. She was prepared to heave it across the room with all her fury. “Yeah? And why not?”

Simon chuckled. “You are not the only one who’s boss had a meeting with Scotland Yard. I too received those names, but unlike the defense, I looked into their records. Veronica Dane has not been heard or seen in years - she’s a complete recluse. According to her hotel, she only left her room for a dinner party with former classmates - an engagement which took place nowhere near Pembroke Castle.”

“O-oh.” Athena felt the fury leave her fingertips. “Okay then. Well, there’s still Longhi Park!”

Simon nodded. “Why yes, Park did indeed attend the same fateful tour as Chelsea and Milo. After which, he returned to his job in British Columbia as a Radiocarbon analyst. It would be quite a drive from there to the Meadow Museum to kill Doctor Olgist, would it not?”

_Urk._ Athena leaned back and flicked her earring. _Every time we take a step forward, we take another two back. Think Athena, Think! Park could’ve killed Milo and Chelsea, but he couldn't have killed Olgist. In Dana’s case, 'Recluse' isn’t the strongest alibi, but she wasn’t on the tour! Who could’ve been present for both?_

Sherlock began tapping his fingers against the railing, still extended.

Two, two, two. _Two what, Sherlock?_

“Hmmmm...” The Judge hemmed and hawed from the bench. “This seems an impossible conundrum. Perhaps the defense is mistaken after all.”

_This is bad. If I don’t find a suspect, Sherlock becomes the only culprit! Again!_ “Uhh, your honor! The defense is - is prepared to explain this contradiction!”

Simon guffawed. Soon he was slapping the bench along with his laughs. “Cykes-dono. You aren’t serious! It seems you are picking up bad habits from your shogun after all.”

_Shut him out, Athena. Think, think! There has to be some explanation._

Sherlock tapped again. Athena looked up to see two stern, frustrated eyes, as if Sherlock was trying to beam a thought directly into her head. Two fingers. Tap tap. _Two two._

“Ms. Cykes.” The Judge leaned forward. “The court awaits your explanation.”

“I - uh-”

Athena felt the world on her shoulders and the weight was crushing. _It all hinges on this, but-but it’s impossible! I can’t connect either of these students to -_

A loud _Ka-thoomp_ brought Athena back to reality. The doors to the courtroom flew open and two familiar figures marched down the aisle.

Athena exhaled, unaware she’d even been holding her breath, as Edgeworth and Wright entered the courtroom.

“Your Hono-”

“Your Hono-”

Wright and Edgeworth stopped halfway during their march and stared at each other. Wright pointed to Edgeworth and mouthed _you?_ Then pointed himself. _Or_ _me?_

Edgeworth smirked and feigned a small bow. Wright nodded and stepped out in front. “Your Honor, the defense and prosecution have evidence to present!”

“Oh my!” The Judge’s eyebrows shot up. “Mr. Wright? And the Chief Prosecutor? Presenting evidence together? Never thought I'd see the day.”

Edgeworth took a place behind the prosecution’s bench. “Indeed. After a meeting with Scotland Yard, we’ve been provided with declassified information regarding the Pembroke murders.”

“Hmpfh,” scoffed Simon, “Welcome home, your lordship.”

Edgeworth glanced to his left with scornful eyes. “I told you, stop calling me that.”

Wright shuffled in behind the defense bench. “Athena! How are we doing?”

“Great! I mean, almost too great.” _I won’t mention to the boss-man how he totally saved me at the buzzer here. Yup, totally had it under control!_

Wright smirked. “Let’s hope the results of Lestrade’s investigation help deliver the knockout punch then.”

John Watson cleared his throat. “I ah, wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Edgeworth approached the bench, carrying a small manila folder. “Your honor, these documents are courtesy of D.I. Lestrade. They include travel documents, email correspondence, and phone records. If I may summarize for the court - Lestrade's investigation revealed an ulterior motive for the ultimately fateful reunion in Pembroke.”

Athena’s head whipped towards Wright. “Ack - pff,” muttered John, as Athena’s hair smacked into his face.

Athena ignored him and continued. “Wright, what’s he talking about?”

Wright stared on. “You’ll see. This may be the last missing piece.”

Edgeworth flipped open his own copy of the folder and continued. “You see your honor, Veronica Dane is the one who initiated this meeting. It would seem she obtained her fellow student's original submissions, and these four students in attendance were the ones who agreed to assist her in revealing how Olgist obtained his ill-gotten gains.”

Wright pounded the desk. “You see, Doctor Olgist...” his arm extended out over the bench, a triumphant finger at the end, “...extorted his students!”

The room fell silent.

Across the room, Simon smiled, content to let Wright twist on his own knife. John and Athena, meanwhile, opted to cover their eyes and avert their gaze.

“Mr. Wright,” said the Judge, “the court is already aware.”

“Ah, well...” Wright scratched the back of his head. “Glad we’re, uh, all on the same page then!”

Athena flicked her earring. _Flick, flick, flick._ She mused aloud. “Is it just me, or is this case making less sense by the minute?”

“Tell me about it,” said Wright as he wiped shameful sweat from his brow. After some silence, he added “No, actually. Tell me about it. Get me up to speed Athena, before I embarrass us again.”

“Right.” Athena nodded. _Phew, Wright can take over after this. I can breathe easy._ As the Judge and Simon familiarized themselves with Lestrade’s case files, Athena summarized the day’s trial so far. “But here’s the _dilemme_. None of these students were in the same place! Ever!”

“Hmmm...” Wright held his chin in his hand as he pondered.

Athena’s hands came together, clasped and hopeful. “Well?”

“That... is a dilemma.” Wright let his hand drop. “Athena, this one’s all yours now.”

“I - wait. What? Whaaaat!?” _Is he serious?_

“This better not be because you have no answer, Wright,” said John.

Wright shook his head. “It’s true, I don’t, but that’s never stopped me from taking charge before. Right now, Athena has a far better grasp on this case. If I step in now, I'd ruin her momentum. I'm better use to you as co-counsel for now. And besides, what kind of boss would I be if I swooped in and stole all the credit for your hard work?”

Athena felt herself smiling. Widget chirped as its color changed. “Th-thanks, Boss-man. But - but I still can’t solve the contradiction!”

The banging of a gavel brought their attention back to the court. “I believe that is enough time for all of us to review these new facts. Miss Cykes, has this new data provided the defense with any insight into the contradiction yo currently face?”

_I - has it? I can’t tell! But I can’t say that! C’mon Athena, think. Longhi Park, Veronica Dane. One of them killed Olgist over his extortion, but why would they kill their fellow students? Especially when they were all planning to work together._

“Athena,” Wright said. Athena didn’t even realize she’d closed her eyes in thought until she opened them again and saw Wright’s stern face. “Maybe we’re approaching this all wrong. You know what it’s time to do, right?”

Athena pounded a fist into her palm. “Right. Turn my thinking around! Instead of asking who killed Chelsea and Milo, maybe the answer lies in why.”

“Miss Cykes,” said the Judge. “The Court awaits your accusation.”

_Okay Athena, flip this case on its head. Focus on one student at time. Longhi Park toured Pembroke, so he had the opportunity to kill Chelsea and Milo. But why? And he didn’t have an opportunity to track down Olgist later, given his job as a Radioactive - er, Radiocarbonite... science guy analyst. And with a job title that complicated, it sounds like Park made it out okay, despite all the extortion. Maybe he’d kill Chelsea and Milo to keep the bribery under wraps and protect his career, but would he really kill Olgist?_

_Okay, so what about Veronica Dane? She got her hands on Olgist’s illicit evidence, and it sounds like she had plenty of motive to end him. Enough so she got her fellow students together to reveal the truth. But she didn’t attend the tour. And besides, even if she did, why would she kill colleagues essential to her plan? If she assembled them just to kill them, she would've kill them all, not just two. Right?_

_Ugh! So what name connects them? Why, the only one who was present at all these locations was -_

Sherlock’s hand tapped. Two fingers extended. _Two, two, two._

And suddenly, Athena knew exactly what Sherlock had been trying to say. 

_N-No way! Noooo way!_

Athena screamed. “ _D-d-d-os MIOOO!_ ”

The Judge slammed his gavel. “Miss Cykes! Get yourself together!”

“S-s-sorry, Your Honor!” Athena grabbed the top of her head. _I - I can’t believe it._ She nodded to Sherlock, who understood and smirked. He retracted his two fingers.

Athena composed herself. _I still can’t believe this, but there’s no other explanation that fits the facts._ “Your honor, we’ve been at an impasse because we’ve been operating on a faulty premise. We’ve all been wrong from the start!” Athena extended her arm across the desk and extended her finger. “The defense asserts Doctor Olgist killed Chelsea Manchester and Milo Donovan! Olgist was our Pembroke Poltergeist all along!”

The gallery exploded in chatter. Across the way, Simon’s mouth hung agape. Edgeworth, meanwhile, stood motionless, his face pale.

The Judge banged his gavel in a vain attempt to regain control of the room.

Over the commotion, John tapped Athena’s arm to get her attention. “Are you - are you serious? Or are you having a row?”

Athena shook her head. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, John! Just ask Sherlock - he knew all along.” _I get what you were trying to tell me now, Sherlock. Two killers! We’re dealing with two murderers, not one!_

“Order! Order!” The chatter began to wane, but the Judge spoke anyway before it completely subsided. “Why, Ms. Cykes, if this is true - our entire perception of the case shifts under our feet.”

“Hah.” Simon scoffed, still shaken. “And I suppose Olgist killed himself, then tied his own corpse to a statue to suit your case?”

Athena shook her head. “No. We’ve been assuming all along our ‘poltergeist’ killed all three victims. There are, in fact, two murderers in this case. Olgist simply drew first blood.”

“Urk!” Simon grasped his desk. “O-of course. The travel arrangements Olgist made to Pembroke -”

Athena nodded. “Right. It had nothing to do with business at all! Olgist found out his own alumni were plotting to expose his racket and traveled to cover his tracks! What’s more, I believe we’ve answered another question. Namely, where our stack of papers came from.”

Simon smiled. “Oh? Explain yourself, Cykes-dono.”

Athena pressed on. “Two weeks ago, Archie Olgist reported a break-in at his home. However, when the police arrived, he said nothing had been taken.”

Simon’s smile faded. “And how did you come into this information?”

_Oops_. “Uh, I - I looked it up. In, um, record... books. It doesn’t matter!” Athena waved her hands in the air, as if trying to wipe the comment away. “What I mean is, what if something was taken, but it wasn’t something Olgist could report as stolen?”

John chimed in. “Ah. Our stack of journal drafts.”

Athena nodded. “ _Preciso_! The defense proposes a former student stole these journals from Olgist’s home with the purpose of exposing his dubious history. Imagine Olgist notices evidence of a break in, calls 911, and then notices what’s been taken. Telling the truth to the officers who answered his 911 call would mean having to disclose what was stolen!”

John tapped the side of his cheek. “I see. Olgist must’ve deduced who stole it, got wind of the meeting, and intended to kill all three conspirators during the tour.”

Athena pounded a fist into her glove. _Now we’ve got it!_ “Right! But, two unexpected things happened. First, Veronica didn’t attend the tour, and he found himself unable to kill every student involved in this conspiracy.”

“Hmpf,” Simon scoffed. “These journals have now been submitted into a court of law. All efforts to protect his fame were for naught.”

_Hmmm. Simon's right. After this case, everyone will know Olgist’s an academic fraud. Veronica got her wish after all._

Blackquill continued. “Well, Cykes-dono? What is the other unexpected event?”

“Well, someone went and hired the world’s greatest detective duo to hunt him down. Olgist likely stayed in town hoping to catch Veronica before she left, only to suddenly have John Watson and Sherlock Holmes themselves on his tail!”

“Of course!” exclaimed Sherlock. “Agh, how could we have been so foolish, John? How did we not see it!?”

John blinked. “Ah, because we were shoved off a parapet.”

“No no, no that. Who did we go to for help after our research?”

Simon slapped his bench as he laughed, taking deep breaths between guffaws. “The world’s greatest detectives, you say? And yet they went to the murder himself!”

Athena did her best to get the court back on track before Sherlock and John suffered any further embarrassment. “ _Esattamente_. When John and Sherlock deduced the killer had to be from his former class, they got in touch. Olgist had an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.” Athena pulled up her holo-screen and scrolled to the messages from Olgist. “Consider his later correspondence.”

**Holmes. Did digging. May know the identity of your attacker. Possibly a close associate. Speak more on this tonight. - A.O.**

Athena continued. “Olgist had a chance to point the very people hunting him at a new target of his choosing, and I believe from this text we know exactly who.”

“What? Really?” Said the Judge. “Who?”

Sherlock answered. “Dana Stapes.”

In back of the gallery, Dana shot up once more. “What? Me!?”

“Yes, you,” Said Sherlock. “‘Possibly a close associate,’ he said. There are only two people he would describe as a close associate. You and Director Carver. Carver had nothing to do with the Pembroke trip, therefore, you are the only one he would implicate.”

Dana’s eyes darted around the room, looking like a wounded dog searching for their owner. “M-me? Why would he name me?”

Athena shook her head. _Sorry Dana, but it’s about to get worse._ “Ms. Stapes, I’m really sorry, I am, but... there’s only one person among the defense’s suspect list who would steal information, organize a conspiracy, and murder Olgist to keep you safe.”

_I don’t quite see how this fits together yet, but it’s the only possibility._ “The true killer is your former lover, Veronica Dane.”

Stapes collapsed into her chair, hands close to her chest. She stared out across the court, a thousand yard stare observing nothing. She was somewhere far away.

“Well, this is... quite a turn.” Said The Judge. “What an incredible tale. To think Olgist would bribe his students, then kill two when they tried to speak out.” The Judge shook his head. “What a horrid violation of the teacher-student relationship.”

_Clap. Clap, Clap._ Simon clasped his hands together, slow. Methodically. His smile couldn’t be wider.

He leaned forward.

_Uh oh._

“Uh oh,” said Wright, as his hands braced the bench. “Here it comes.”

Athena felt her stomach drop. _N-no way. After all that, Simon’s still not satisfied?_

“Excellent show, Cykes-dono. Why, with the twisting tale you weaved, I almost believed I was in a Rakugo theater. Alas, without proper evidence, a story is all you have.”

Athena pounded her desk with an open palm, burning with fury. “I have evidence! I substantiated every claim. Olgist made travel arrangements! He had the motive, means, and opportunity!”

Simon bowed. “And in regards to Pembroke, the prosecution concurs. But, in your rush to implicate another suspect, you’ve blinded yourself to a simpler possibility in regards to The Not-So-Good Doctor’s end. Tell me Cykes-dono, what is more likely? That a recluse who has not been seen in years shrugged off her phobia to commit murder, or... ”

Simon snapped his fingers as he flicked his hand over the bench, mimicking Wright’s trademark pointer finger. “...the true murderer is the man who was already there. Sherlock Holmes!”

The gallery erupted again.

Wright's head flicked back in shock. “Co-come on! Seriously? Still?”

Athena herself recoiled over her desk like she’d been punched in the gut. “ _T-T-tu mi sita prendendo in giro!_ ” Athena felt sweat forming on her brow.

The Judge pounded his Gavel, but Simon carried on over the clamor. “Who had access to this facility before anyone else? Sherlock Holmes! Who had access to the gun? Sherlock Holmes! And who killed Doctor Olgist? Why, Sherlock Holmes!”

“Objection!” Athena screamed, gloved hand extended. _I - I have to get this back on track._ “You have no proof Sherlock knew Olgist was the killer!”

“Oh?” Simon tapped his own forehead twice. “I submit as evidence the hand signals Sherlock so conspicuously flashed, defense. Two fingers, I believe? It would seem Sherlock knew there were two different murders long before the rest of us.”

Sherlock stared daggers into Athena.

_Urk. If only I'd picked up on his hint faster._ “B-but you have no proof as to when!”

“Oh?” Simon smirked. “Your client has been forthcoming on the truth so far. Why don't we ask? Tell us, Holmes. When did you first suspect Olgist?”

“Oh. Oh no. No no, this is bad,” muttered John. “Holmes never resists a chance to show off.”

_Great. So my client is about to implicate himself._

Holmes paused before answering. “There is a difference between ‘know’ and ‘suspect,’ prosecutor.”

“Hmpf.” Simon crossed his arms. “Then answer both.”

Holmes nodded. “Very well. I suspected Olgist from the moment I saw his name in our research.”

Blackquill smiled. “And when did you _know_?”

Sherlock blinked. If he was worried, a steely resolve hid it well. “The night of his murder, naturally.”

Simon extended his arms in triumph. “And there you have it, from the suspect himself. Furthermore, we took John Watson’s statement the first night. Tell me, Doctor, where did you hear Sherlock’s voice echoing from again?”

John glanced to Athena and Wright, perplexed, looking for answers. They had none. “Why, the-the staircase, of course. From above.”

Simon chuckled. “And did you ever wonder _why_ you heard his voice from above? It’s simple - your mysterious assailant and Sherlock Holmes were one and the same!”

John was aghast, pale-faced. His fist slammed down on the bench. “T-That’s absurd!”

_Yeah, come on Simon!_ “The defense agrees with uh, our co-counsel! Sherlock would never - “

Simon wagged his finger. “I agree, he would never harm his only friend - which is why he did not. The intention was not to take deadly aim, he merely wished to fool you into believing you were witnessing the moment of the murder!” Simon crossed his arms, more relaxed than ever. “As the defense has proven, Olgist was murdered long before The Good Doctor arrived on the scene. Recall if you will, the defense’s proposal the final messages from Olgist were not sent from Olgist himself.”

Edgeworth handed Simon a print-out of the cell phone conversations. which Simon then read the portion in question aloud.

**\-- 8:56 PM --**  
**Holmes. They know. - A.O.**  
**Come help. - A.O.**  
**Armed - A.O.**

“As the defense proved, Archie was dead before these messages were sent. What better way for Sherlock to further obfuscate the time of his death than to send desperate messages to himself?”

“Oh my!” Exclaimed The Judge. “Why yes, that did convince us otherwise.”

Simon bowed triumphantly. “You see, Cykes-dono? Your client, a world class detective, would take every precaution to preserve his reputation. As the world’s greatest, surely he is in a uniquely qualified position to know exactly how best to obfuscate and impede an investigation. Face it - you’ve _both_ been patsies for his schemes from the start!!”

Athena pounded her desk with an open palm twice. “ _Bugiardo_! Holmes did no such thing!” She flicked her hand across the bench. _Time to counterattack. We have to right this sinking ship before he convinces The Judge!_ “Simon, this is ridiculous! The biggest contradiction in yesterday’s case was how Sherlock couldn’t have dropped Sue and been the mystery attacker at the same time!”

Simon guffawed, clutching his belly. “Ah yes, and this _was_ true... before you proved the murder happened hours earlier. Holmes had three hours to himself in this museum. More than enough time to rig the fossil to collapse, perhaps even with the very rope you entered into evidence. Tell me again, Dr. Watson, what were the exact words you heard him exclaim?”

_Argh. Not again!_ “Watson, don’t answer that!”

She caught sight of Wright shaking his head. “Go ahead, John.”

Athena folded her arms, fuming. _Et Tu, Brute?_

John sighed. His head examined the courtroom, but his eyes seemed somewhere else, far away. Eventually, he turned his gaze to Sherlock.

Sherlock nodded in his direction, and John finally spoke. “He said Stay right there.”

Simon feigned a bow again. “Stay right there, indeed. Holmes needed Sue to collapse on you, to stall you. He knew quite well if he did not, you’d give chase and discover your attacker’s true identity! He used the time to dispose of the gun, hide the security card, and then returned to plant an essential thought in your head.” Simon snapped his fingers as he extended an open hand across the desk. “The thought someone else was in the building with you - a belief you were all too happy to accept, lest your closest companion be indicted for murder.”

With a defiant snap, Simon concluded his finishing blow. “You’ve fought admirably, Cykes-dono, but the truth comes for us all in the end. Sherlock Holmes covered his tracks to the best of his ability, but even he could not fabricate another attacker into existence! Without proof Veronica Dane entered the building last night, you have no case! All the evidence you’ve presented is merely nails, driven into your own coffin!”

_Nnnn-oooooo! My case!_ Athena slumped down over the desk. _This is why Simon’s been so quiet - I’ve been building his case for him this entire time!_ “Boss, this is bad.”

Wright nodded, seemingly unperturbed by Simon’s complete command over the courtroom. “We're in a tight spot, that's for sure. Athena, quick - review your evidence while he goes for the kill. There’s a contradiction in his claim. If we believe in Sherlock, there has to be!”

While Athena appreciated the optimism, the court record held no answers.

“Hmmmm,” Said the Judge, “Miss Cykes. Blackquill’s explanation of events _do_ seem to be the most plausible explanation, even taking your own evidence into account. For two days, the defense has claimed another individual entered the premises, but has systematically failed to prove this. If even with all that has been laid bare today, the defense is still unable to provide evidence for its assertion, it seems I have no choice but to accept the unfortunate truth. The great Sherlock Holmes exacted his own vigilante justice.”

Sherlock, who’d been calm and collected during Simon’s tirade, suddenly gripped his witness stand. “Your honor, all evidence has _not_ been laid bare. Please.”

“Y-yeah!” Said Athena, extending her hand across the bench. “What our client said! Please, your honor.”

Simon chuckled to himself. ‘If this farce must continue, so be it. Little remains for the prosecution to prove its case. Face it, Sherlock - confess! It’s only a matter of time before Ema’s team uncovers where you stashed Carter’s gun and Olgist’s badge. Once they're found, your fate is sealed!”

_Wait, what did he just say?_ Athena flicked her earring.

“Athena,” said John, “Did he-”

“Yeah, I heard it too.” _What was it Priscilla said last night? ‘The police figured it wasn’t pertinent to the investigation?’ I could’ve sworn she said they’d already found it..._

Athena felt a swell of confidence. _I... I’m not sure what this means, but if I tug at this one lie, I might finally unravel the entire case!_

“J-Just a moment Your Honor!” Said Athena. She fished around in her jacket pocket, found the badge, and gripped it between her fingers. “Simon, are you referring to this badge?” She held it straight into the air.

The blood flushed from Simon’s face. He turned a pale shade and lost his balance, stabilizing himself on the prosecution’s bench as he stumbled. “C-Cykes-Dono. Wh-where did you - Where did you get that badge!?”

_Hmmmm._ Athena pondered his question. _The person who gave this to us - why would she lie, unless...?_

John stepped up to answer. “Wait a minute, are - are you saying the police have been looking for this badge?”

Edgeworth pounded the prosecution’s desk while Simon recovered from shock. “Doctor! When and how did you come in possession of this badge? Answer the question!”

Wright leaned in close. “Uh, Athena? How did you get that badge?”

The world fell away. Athena focused on the facts of the case, trying to make sense of the Prosecution’s outburst. _I - I don’t believe it, but there’s only one way Priscilla would’ve had this ID... and only one reason she would lie. One way or the other, this is it - the end of the line!_

Athena pounded the desk with both hands. “Your Honor. In order to answer this question, the defense must call another witness. We call Priscilla Graves back to the stand.”

 

### Testimony: Priscilla Graves

“Hey ho, court-io!” Priscilla spun her plastic gun around with her left pointer finger, her right hand resting under her left arm as if cradling herself in a hug.

“Miss Graves.” Simon’s voice was stern. “Have you been here all morning?”

She nodded. Her gun came to a stop in her palm. “I have.”

“And you are aware of why you’ve been called to the stand?”

“Sure. The I.D. card, right?”

Edgeworth pounded his desk. “Miss Graves. Where did you get that card?”

“Yeeesh, I didn’t think it was such a big deal,” she said. She holstered her plastic gun. “I found it on Carver’s desk when I came in to work the next day.”

“Ah, h-hold on a moment.” John Watson leaned forward. “Miss Graves, I could've sworn you said the police handed you the badge themselves.”

Edgeworth crossed his arms. A single finger tapped on his elbow. “I assure you, we did no such thing. Had we found it, it would’ve been entered into evidence. By us, not the defense.”

Priscilla’s right hand reached up and pulled her security cap down, covering her eyes. “Alright, alright! Yeesh. The police were canvassing the area, so I figured they must’ve seen it already and done whatever-the-heck it is ya'll do with evidence. That’s why I told the defense you didn’t need it. It was a poor assumption, all right? Sorry folks.”

“Hmm.” Said The Judge. “I see. So it was just a misunderstanding. Prosecution, are you satisfied?”

“Hardly,” answered Simon. “I suppose for coming clean, we may skip an obstruction of justice charge. Count yourself fortunate, Graves.”

“Yeah yeah.” She raised her hat again. “Sorry folks.”

_Hmmmm..._  Athena gripped her bench.  _Nice try Priscilla, but you won't get out of this that easily._

“Miss Cykes,” said The Judge, “is the defense satisfied?”

“No, Your Honor,” Athena answered. “We are not. Miss Graves, I’m sorry, but there’s a huge contradiction in your statement!”

“T-There is?” Graves stuttered, but her confidence didn’t waver. “What’re you talking about, safety jacket?”

“I’d like to refer the court to the ID card record.” Athena clicked Widget and brought up her Holo-Screen. Soon the ID record floated in the air for all to see.

7:16 PM - Main Door - A. Olgist  
7:23 PM - Director’s Office - A. Olgist  
7:54 PM - Service Elevator, First Floor - A. Olgist  
8:23 PM - Service Elevator, Parking Garage - A. Olgist  
9:45 PM - Security Room - A. Olgist  
9:53 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist  
10:10 PM - Service Elevator, Parking Garage - A. Olgist  
10:19 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist  
10:21 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist

“As you can see, Olgist’s ID opened the service elevator at 10:21. This is the final entry for the night. So when, exactly, could Olgist’s ID have been left on Carver’s desk without registering an entry?”

Priscilla shrugged. “Your record only show's the evening's activity. Maybe they left on his desk the next morning?”

Athena was ready to counter-attack, but Simon beat her to it. He pounded his desk. “Miss Graves. You are head of security, are you not? Why do you tell such careless lies?”

“I - what?” Priscilla turned her attention toward the prosecution, startled to find herself attacked from the other direction. “Whaddya mean?”

“The prosecution has access to _all_ the Meadow's activity logs.” He produced a page from below the desk. “I hold here all activity for March third and the first person on the list is you, at 7:45 AM.”

“Simon, Whaddya doin’?” Priscilla leaned forward, sneering. “You accusin' _me_ of planting the card? You were all with me at 7:45!”

"Oh? On the contrary, I believe you accused yourself,” Simon answered. “ Did you not suggest the true perpetrator returned the card the following morning? if your claim is true, you would've been the first in the office.”

Priscilla’s eyes went wide in surprise. She turned her head away and exhaled with as much irritation as she could muster. “Well jeez. I expected accusations from the desperate defense over there, but I never thought the prosecution would be rakin’ me over the coals. What do I know about how the card ended up there? All I know is I went into the office, and there it was!”

Simone pounded his desk with a balled up fist. “Fine. If the witness will not cooperate, I turn my query to the defense.”

Athena blinked. “I - uh... _que_?”

“Miss Cykes. You were the one who called Miss Graves to the stand. Do you believe she found Olgist's card somewhere else?”

_Hmmm. Simon might be trying to catch me off guard here, but when I consider the possibilities, there’s only one answer._ “The defense does have another theory - that Priscilla found it at the crime scene, after she shot Doctor Olgist.”

There were hushed gasps throughout the gallery. The Judge himself seemed to have not processed the full weight of Athena’s words at first. “Miss Cykes, are you saying...?”

Athena nodded. _No going back now._ “Yes. At this time, the defense formally accuses Priscilla Graves for the murder of Doctor Archie Olgist.”

As the gallery exploded, both Phoenix and John turned to her for answers.

“Athena, are you sure?” Wright said.

“She was _quite_ helpful during the investigation,” John added.

_Uh, yeah guys._ _I’m sure._ “She was, and I'm starting to understand why,” said Athena.

The Judge regained control of the courtroom with several gavel pounds. “Miss Cykes, explain yourself!”

_"Simplice_ , your honor.” Athena slapped Archie’s ID badge on the desk. “There’s simply too many coincidences here to ignore. We’ve determined our culprit likely broke in through the window earlier in the day, then triggered the alarm later when they re-entered the security room at 9:45. So, why enter through the window? Simple - they knew about the card readers inside the building, and couldn’t risk having any activity logged. They also knew about the silent alarm, and how to disable and re-enable it. Additionally, whoever killed Olgist must’ve had insider knowledge the security cameras would be offline the night of the second.”

Athena crossed her arms, feeling the rhetorical momentum swell up in her. “In fact, our culprit would also need to know about the location of Carver’s gun.” Athena slapped the desk with an open palm for emphasis. “Who other than the chief of security would know how to manipulate a silent alarm, when to avoid cameras, and know the location of any firearm on the premises? There’s only one culprit who fits the facts - Priscilla Graves.”

“I, ah - _urk_!” Priscilla leaned back, grimacing in pain as if she’d been stabbed in the gut. “Tha-that’s ridiculous! I’d never kill someone! Not in my own building!”

“Oh?” Athena waved the ID card in the air. “Then explain this to me, Miss Graves. The only person who could’ve had this ID is the person who killed Olgist!”

“Hmpfh.” Simon pounded his desk, weakly. “A weak slice, Cykes-dono. Explain yourself.”

Athena pounded a fist into her open palm. “ _Gerne_! I believe Miss Graves _did_ intend to stash this card where she claims after the murder. However, thanks to Holmes and John, she had to make a hasty retreat. I believe Miss Graves intended to escape through the broken window on the first floor, the same way she came in. But thanks to Holmes, that escape plan got cut off. If she left the badge in the garage, it would become obvious Olgist wasn't the one using it that night. So she had one choice - hold on to the badge and escape through the parking garage.”

Simon didn't look satisfied. “Then why hand it over to you?”

“I’ve been pondering that too,” muttered John. “She handed it over with no effort, almost like she wanted us to take it.”

_Pretty sure it's because she did._ “When we asked for help, she saw an opportunity to pass off incriminating evidence, something she'd been stuck with since the night of the murder. By telling us a simple lie - namely, that the prosecution had already examined the badge - John and I asked no further questions about how she possessed it.”

“Huh,” said John, flicking his pointer finger back and forth between himself and Athena. “You’re right. We - we didn’t question it at all. Almost worked, too, if not for Simon’s row.”

Athena pounded her desk twice. "Priscilla Graves is the only one who had the means and knowledge to execute this plan.”

“Hah! Whatever, safety jacket.” Priscilla crossed her arms, her right hand still cradled beneath her arm. Her head stayed down, eyes obscured by her cap. “This is all baseless nonsense! What's the legal - conjecture! That's it!”

Across the room, Simon guffawed. “I must agree with the witness, oh brightly adorned one. Your evidence for Priscilla’s presence the night of the murder is there _is_ no evidence she was present that night. Surely I don’t need to explain the flaw here?”

“Urk!” Athena gulped. _Well geez, when you put it like that..._

Wright rubbed his chin with his forefinger, lost in thought. He mused out loud. “I think your theory is sound, Athena, but you need to approach this another way.”

_Since when did Mr. Wright speak in riddles?_ “Whaddya mean, boss?”

“Wright is um, he's... well, I guess he's right,” said John, with two quick nods of the head. “She knew not to use her own badge, she knew how to avoid the silent alarm, how to set the trap - she took great strides to leave nothing behind and make me a patsy. We'll need a new angle of attack.”

_A new angle, huh? And what the heck angle is that?_

The judge shook his head. “Miss Cykes. The prosecution has the right of it. Your assertion is not entirely baseless; it _is_ far too many coincidences to ignore, and the way Miss Graves so casually withheld evidence -”

“Hey!” Priscilla lifted her head and pushed her hat up. “I handed it over, Didn’t I?”

The Judge ignored her. “- has not escaped my consideration. While concerning, it is the opinion of this court the defense has provided insufficient evidence to indict Miss Graves.”

Simon rapped his fingertips across the prosecution’s bench. “A rusty blade, uncleaned and unkempt, will corrode away into red dust.”

Edgeworth averted his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, embarrassed to know his own prosecutor.

_Ugh, now what? It’s never good when he goes full Lao Tzu._ “Uh, Simon? Not all of us have read The Book of Five Rings, you know.”

“Hmpf. You could stand to learn how to strike with stronger spirit,” said Simon. His finger waved back and forth in the air. “I admit, you’ve managed to concoct an iota of a case against Miss Graves, but you leave too much unanswered. Let me ask you this, Cykes-dono. What motive did Priscilla have to kill Olgist?”

Athena jumped. _Ack. Motive! I got so hung up on the how, I forgot the why!_  “I, uh...”

The Judge stroked his beard. “Well, Defense? I am inclined to agree with the prosecution.”

“Ohhh, there’s a surprise,” muttered John. Athena couldn’t help but smirk.

The Judge continued, seemingly unaware of John’s remark. “It stands to reason Miss Graves would know all windows of opportunity, but what reason would she have to commit such a heinous act?”

Athena flicked her earring. _Hmmm… yeah, why would she? She wasn’t one of Olgist’s students. Maybe Olgist extorted her some other way?_

“Defense, unless you establish a motive, I will not allow this accusation to stand.”

_Awww, come on! Every time! I’m not letting her off the hook that easy!_ “W-wait, your honor! The defense is, uh - we’re prepared to establish motive!”

“Wh-what?” The Judge reeled backward. Had he any room to fall, he might have. “W-well then. Let us hear it. What reason did Priscilla Graves have to kill Doctor Olgist?”

Simon leaned forward on the prosecution’s bench, his chin cradled in his hand with a devious smirk. “This should be fun.”

Athena felt her posture start to slump. _Uhhhh… oh boy. Maybe I should’ve thought about this first._

“Athena,” Wright said, standing strangely tall and confident. “I’m impressed you dove in with such gusto. You do have a plan here, right?”

Athena turned towards her boss and tried to project confidence.

Tried.

It must’ve failed because Wright responded, “O-oh. Oh no. You don’t, do you?”

“That obvious?”

Wright shrugged. “It’s not like you and Apollo haven’t seen me in worse situations. Focus on the case, on everything we know so far. The answer’s in the evidence, I’m sure of it.”

_Okay,_ _Athena. Pense, Pense. What reason would Priscilla have to commit murder? She had access to everything, so it’s not like she needed his ID. She didn’t get caught in his extortion racket. She didn’t steal or take anything. She wasn’t even a former student!_

_Right?_

_Unless…_

Athena blinked. A startling thought occurred to her. _No. There’s no way, right?_ “Your Honor, the defense has no evidence to present on this matter...”

Simon chuckled, still wearing a stupid smirk.

“...But we are prepared to _request_ evidence which may support a theory.”

Priscilla’s head tilted. “Shoot, kiddo.”

Athena crossed her arms. “Tell me, Priscilla - did you make any travel plans recently?”

Priscilla stumbled sideways in the witness stand. She caught the banister with her right hand and winced in pain, as if the act of clutching hurt. “Yeow!” She shook her hand in the air a few times. “I uh - that’s a silly question. I don’t see why it’s um, pertinent.”

Simon’s smirk vanished. He remained leaning over the desk, resting his chin in his hand. “Miss Graves. Lying under oath is a punishable offense. If you do not wish to be cut down where you stand, answer the question!”

Priscilla crossed her arms again and pulled her cap down to cover her eyes. “O-of course. I just, uh - no, I didn’t.”

Simon stood up. As he rose, his shadow seemed to encompass the entire courtroom. There was nothing but fury in his eyes. “Priscilla Graves. How many times must I remind you we have access to the Meadow's records? You took PTO for two weeks. It is, in fact, why you weren’t working the day of the murder.”

Even though Priscilla hid her face under her cap, Athena could see sticky sweat dripping down her cheeks. The sweat alone assured Athena she was on the right track, and the disharmony in her voice as she spoke removed all doubt.

“I - I know! Safety Jacket asked if I had made any _travel plans_. Yeesh! Sure, I took some time off, but I didn’t travel anywhere. Just check my financial records! I didn’t buy any train, plane, or bus tickets.”

Athena nodded. _As expected. I have a theory, one I wouldn't have come up with if Simon hadn't asked for motive. This is the new angle I needed!_ _I don’t know how I’m going to prove this, but it’s the only thing that makes sense now. Let’s shake this tree and see what falls out._ “I believe you, Priscilla.”

Priscilla revealed her face. Her cap tilted up to reveal large, surprised eyeballs. Relief washed over her. Her left hand brushed across her brow. “You - you do?”

“Yes. I believe Priscilla Graves didn’t buy any tickets at all, because you bought them using your real name - Veronica Dane.”

As Athena flicked out her finger, three things happened.

First, the gallery erupted in simultaneous gasps, along with The Judge.

Second, Simon and Edgeworth bucked in surprise, flinching in opposite directions. Edgeworth stumbled backward towards the wall, while Simon nearly fell over the bench.

Third, Wright, John, and Priscilla shouted “Whaaaat!?” but their voices were quickly drowned out by the gallery.

The court became a madhouse.

Athena ignored all the commotion as her attention turned to Sherlock. He’d been quiet, nearly motionless in his stand. His eyes seemed transfixed on Priscilla Graves, as if studying her like a complicated math equation he was trying to solve in his head.

_I wonder what goes on up there._

The Judge pounded his gavel over and over until he regained control. “Order! Order! Miss Cykes, explain yourself! Are you saying Priscilla Graves is actually - “

Athena pounded a fist into her palm. “I am, your honor. Veronica Dane isn’t a recluse. It just appears that way because she's been living under a different name.”

Priscilla crossed her arms. Athena could see her nerves were rattled from the way she shook in place, but she tossed her head aside defiantly all the same. “Ha! You’re way off base, Safety Jacket. I have no clue who Veronica Dane is and - and I don’t care!”

Simon leaned up, still bracing himself over the bench. “C-cykes-Dono. Her requested time off lines up perfectly with - “

Athena smirked. “With Veronica Dane’s time in Pembroke, I bet. Priscilla took time off to meet with her fellow students and discuss revealing the truth!”

“B-but why!” Simon pounded his desk. “Why assume a fake name?”

Athena shook her head. “I’d think that’s pretty obvious, Simon. She was worried for her safety. She was the only student in class to refuse Olgist’s not-so-generous offer. Seeing as how two of her fellow students ended up dead, I’d say her concern was warranted, wouldn’t you?”

“I - urk!” Simon clutched his chest. “Miss Graves, you are proving to be a… a most unfortunate witness.”

Despite the accusations, Priscilla regained her confidence. Her left hand drew the plastic pistol and spun it about. “I don’t know what either of you are going on about. So my vacation happened to line up with some other woman’s, so what? Like two people’s travel plans have never - “

Priscilla abruptly stopped speaking as she looked towards the gallery. Dana Stapes emerged from the back, pacing slowly down the aisle. All eyes turned to her as she crossed passed the gallery and into the center of the courtroom.

“Miss Stapes, please return to - “ Dana ignored him. The judge quieted down as she approached the witness stand.

Dana paused in front of Priscilla and stared, taking her in. At first, Priscilla avoided eye contact, her head tilting towards the ground. But, as Dana continued staring, Priscilla brought her head up.

The two of them remained that way for a while, taking complete command of the court. Even The Judge made no further motions to send Dana back. _I’ve never seen anything like this. What’s going on?_

Eventually, Dana broke the silence. “It’s her.”

Priscilla’s head hung down in shame. She pulled the cap down to cover her eyes yet again.

_Hmmm. Maybe that’s why she keeps covering her face with her hat. She’s known all along Dana’s been in the audience, after all._

Dana continued. “You dyed your hair, changed your name, but... I-I still see you there, Vee. And I won’t let you lie anymore. Not to this court and especially not to me.”

Edgeworth coughed.

No one dared speak.

“I spent years thinking you were gone! Out of my life! I sometimes wondered if you were even - “ Dana couldn’t finish her sentence. Emotion overwhelmed her. She shoved her hands under her glasses, pushing them up her face as she covered her eyes with open hands, hiding crying eyes from the court.

Priscilla reached out. “Dana, I - “

Dana looked away. “Not now, Vee.”

Dana paced back towards the gallery but didn’t return to her seat. Instead, she kept walking, pushed open the doors, and stepped out of the courtroom completely.

_Oof. I’m so sorry, Dana, but this the only way._

“Ouch,” muttered John. “Poor Dana.”

Priscilla’s hand returned to the stand. She crossed her arms and leaned back, head hanging low. “I uh... I guess there's no point in hiding it now, is there?”

The Judge leaned forward. “Then, Miss Graves, are you admitting…?”

“Yes. My real name is Veronica Dane.”

Across the room, Simon and Edgeworth leaned close and whispered to one another. _It’s refreshing to watch the Prosecution panic and restructure their case for once._

“Miss Graves - err, Dane,” Athena said. “I’m afraid it’s not over yet. I have many more questions.”

Priscilla scoffed and blew a strand of hair out of her face.

_Okay, I’ll take that as an ‘ask away.’_ “Did you break into Olgist’s home?”

Priscilla stared off into space.

Athena slammed her desk with two open hands. Priscilla jumped. “Miss Graves! Answer the question!”

“Yes,” she said. “I did. And I don’t regret it! Olgist hamstrung all our futures for his own gains. All my dreams of a future in archeology died the day he called me into his office and made his pitch. And knowing Dana accepted it...”

Athena felt another piece of the puzzle snap into place. “That’s why you two split.”

Priscilla looked on the verge of tears. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she kept up a tough face. “At first, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe any of them were so willing to sign their futures away. I abandoned my grad program entirely and never looked back.”

Athena frowned. She heard widget chirp, likely turning blue to reflect her mood. “How come you didn’t go to anyone then?”

  
Priscilla shook her head. “When you’re in a program with the same people for years, traveling, exploring together... they’re your family. If I revealed what Olgist was up to, I could’ve jeopardized the entire program. Every student would’ve been denied their Doctorates. Even if I was furious with them, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t their fault, It was his.” Priscilla clenched her left hand into a shaking fist. “It was always his.”

_Ca alors! I’ve stumbled onto something deep. She’s been carrying this anger and sadness around for years, and it’s festered into a tightly-wound emotional knot._ Athena studied the room. Simon’s face was pale as his case crumbled before him, and the Judge seemed lost in a contemplative melancholy as he watched the witnesses' outburst. _After all this, I think it’s safe to say I’ve established motive._

The gears in Athena’s head turned. “But now that all your classmates - er, former classmates - have established careers, you could safely reveal the truth without damaging their futures.”

Priscilla sadly chuckled to herself. “That’s what I thought, until Milo and Chelsea ended up dead during their tour. I thought warning them before I released the documents would help all of them prepare for any fallout, but I never expected I was putting their lives in danger.”

Some color returned to Simon’s face as he righted himself. “I commend you for seeking evidence to prove your claim, though I question your methodology.”

The Judge nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Miss Graves, while Olgist may not be alive to press charges, burglary is a serious offense.”

Priscilla inhaled and raised her head. “I understand, your honor, and I’ll face my punishment.”

_Phew. What a case. It’s been a long road, but I think we’re finally nearing the end._

The doors in the back of the courtroom opened. Athena stole a glance to see Dana re-enter, better composed. She stood in the back of the room, watching.

The judge stroked his beard. “My, my. To think there could be so much bloodshed and crime over ancient, musty relics. At last, we’ve arrived at the end of-”

“Cart before the horse, your baldness,” Simon interrupted. “Last I checked, we are not here to determine the culprit of a break-in, but the murderer of a murder. Miss Graves here has only confessed to one crime... or am I mistaken?”

Priscilla crossed her arms. Her posture straightened. “N-no. You’re not, prosecutor. I had every intention of revealing the truth about his-scumbagness, Archie Olgist, but I never killed him.”

_Wh-what? But we were so close!_ “You can’t be serious! You - you’re the only one who knew about all the security features, the gun! You - you had a motive! Are you still denying you confronted Olgist that night?”

Priscilla reached across her body to draw her plastic pistol with her right hand, but the moment she reached for it Sherlock suddenly interrupted the proceedings. “Pardon me, miss Graves, but are you _sure_ you aren't left-handed?”

“I, uh - what? This _again_? Of course not! I think I'd know my handedness, thank you.”

“Well, It’s just that when you reached for your training pistol just now, you had to cross-draw. Now, anyone in a profession requiring the use of a personal firearm is taught to holster their weapon on the same side as their dominant shooting hand, specifically to avoid cross-drawing, so I must ask - “

“Mister Holmes,” exclaimed The judge. “That’s enough. You are not to address the witness.”

Sherlock nodded, his eyes turned in Athena’s direction. “Of course, your honor.”

Like usual, Athena wasn’t sure what to make of his outburst. _What’s he doing? Was that his idea of a hint?_ _And why does he keep getting caught up on which hand Priscilla uses?_

Priscilla holstered her plastic firearm. _Huh, guess Sherlock killed her spinning mood._ Priscilla’s eyes darted up and to the right. “Uhhh, what was I - oh right! Yes, Safety Jacket. I deny it. I wasn’t in the building that night.”

Simon leaned back. “You strike well, Cykes-dono, but perhaps you still strike at the wrong target. Even your explanation of motive lacks a vital spirit.”

“It - it does?”

Simon nodded. “Yes. To put it simply, why now? Graves had ample opportunity to end his life. Why, she could’ve sat in his home after the break-in and merely shot him as he entered. She had no reason to wait until this specific night.”

_Hmmmm... I'm not so sure, Simon. I can think of a few._

Next to her, Wright smiled. “You already have an answer, don’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, Simon, I think we do know.”

Priscilla scoffed. “I’d sure like to hear this.”

“Allow me to explain.” Athena clicked widget to bring up her holo-screen and pulled up the files on Milo and Chelsea. “I don’t believe you intended to kill Doctor Olgist at first, Miss Dane. I believe you told the truth - when this started, you set out to expose his abuses in power. However, when both Milo and Chelsea turned up dead, you realized how far he’d go to keep his secret. If he ever figured out your true identity, you knew you’d be next!”

Priscilla blinked, unfazed by the accusation. For the first time since her dual identities were revealed, she smirked.

_Wh-what? A misfire! But-but I was so sure!_

“So you think I did it for _me_? Please! Olgist would’ve never found me. I covered all my tracks.” She reached out and pointed a gloved finger towards the defense's bench. “No one’s ever figured it out until, today. So why would I - “

“You were protecting Dana.”

The room went silent. All eyes turned to John Watson, who’d stopped Veronica in her tracks. “Weren’t you? Surely you heard about how Sherlock Holmes himself had the taken the case.”

John stepped in closer to Athena and attempted to swipe through options on the holo-screen. Nothing happened.

“Um, John? It communicates through my gloves. That’s not gonna - “

“Could you, um, pull up Olgist’s text history, please?”

Athena did as requested, projecting the text history into the air.

**Holmes. Did digging. May know the identity of your attacker. Possibly a close associate. Speak more** on **this tonight. - A.O.**

“Right there,” John said, pointing to Olgist’s text. “It’s Dana, it has to be. He’s talking about Dana.” John held out his hands in open palms. His eyes darted around the room to see if everyone agreed. John must have met too many blank stares because he continued. “Olgist planned to use our meeting to misdirect us - if he blamed Pembroke on Dana, he could remove all suspicion.”

_Hey, the Doc’s right! I can pick up what he’s putting down._ Athena pointed a finger at Priscilla, plunging her arm through the holo-screen. "It's true! Dana told us herself you two were once more than friends. If you found out Olgist intended to put her on the chopping block, there’s no way you’d let that meeting take place!”

Priscilla winced as if struck. Her legs buckled, and for a moment, she appeared two feet smaller on the stand. “I-I…” Her faint protests stammered off into nothing.

“Oh my!” Exclaimed The Judge. “Why yes, this _would_ be a reasonable motive.”

“Hmmm. A compelling tale you weave, Cykes-dono, fit for a mukashi banashi some Koto player would sing of.” Simon flicked his hand across his bench. “Cykes-dono. Have you any proof Miss Graves knew Olgist’s intentions ahead of time?”

“We-well.” Athena tapped a finger on her chin. The holo-screen was still on, floating in front of her face, projecting Olgist’s text history. “She would’ve had access to Olgist’s phone. She could’ve seen his text history!”

Over in the defendant's stand, Sherlock slapped his forehead. The instant his hand made a dull _thwack_ , Athena knew she’d made a grievous error.

Simon shook his head and smirked. “Oh? Did she now? I believe it was the defense that established our culprit lured both John and Sherlock to the museum after the murder using Olgist’s phone. Unless, Cykes-dono, you prove she had access to his phone _prior_ to the murder, this claim is baseless! Or do you suppose she killed Olgist to gain access to his phone, read his messages, then went back in time and killed him again?”

Athena felt her shoulders slump. Sweat collected on her brow. _Ugh, I hate when I agree with the prosecution. Every time I think I’ve finally got Veronica cornered, she has an out! She really did think of everything._

As if confirming her own doubts, the Judge nodded in agreement with Simon. “Miss Cykes. I’m afraid the prosecution is correct. It would seem even in the end, there is no physical evidence to suggest Miss Graves was ever in the building. You’ve made a commendable effort and brought many mysteries to light.”

Priscilla drew her pistol and spun it around. “Can’t say I’ve enjoyed this little interrogation, but I really need to thank you all the same.”

“Y-you do?” Athena clicked widget to lower the holo-screen.

“Yeah.” Priscilla caught her practice pistol. “Thanks to you two, Olgist’s game is out in the open. No matter what happens now, the world will know the truth.”

John nodded in agreement. “It's like Blackquill said earlier. Olgist's efforts were for naught. His Alma Mater will have to spend years combing through all his research, searching for anything else he’s stolen.”

Priscilla exhaled a huge breath as if she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying her moment of serenity. “After all the murder and lies, we’ll finally know peace. And it’s all thanks to the two of you.”

Athena flicked her earring. _Wait a minute. Priscilla admitted to stealing the original journals, right? If that’s the case, there’s a huge problem with her testimony! She just slipped up. This is our chance!_  Athena pounded her desk. “Just a second, your honor!”

The Judge merely stared for a while. “Miss Cykes, there is no shame in admitting defeat now. The evidence has simply failed to side with your client, and I am inclined to conclude it is the unfortunate truth. We have poured over this case with enough scrutiny I am now able to render a verdict. This will be your last chance to convince me otherwise. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes. Your honor!”

“Oof.” Muttered Wright. “I’ve seen that look in his eyes before. If you've been saving something else, Athena, now's the time to present it.”

_No need, boss!_   _Priscilla's own testimony is enough to press here. She gave us everything we needed by trying to layer lies upon lies. Time to peel them_   _back until we find the truth_.Athena pounded a fist into her glove. “Miss Graves. You confessed to the theft of the original journals from Olgist’s home earlier, did you not?”

Priscilla crossed her arms. “Yes. I did.”

“So they were in your possession last.”

“I suppose.”

“And you didn’t hand them off to anyone else.”

“I -” Priscilla blinked twice. “No. I wouldn’t do that. Far too dangerous."

“If that’s the case, Miss Graves, I’m afraid your entire testimony falls apart.”

Priscilla’s head tilted.

Athena pointed her finger across the room. “Miss Graves, we found these documents in Carver’s desk. If no one else ever held them, the only way they could get there is if _you_ put them there!”

Priscilla lurched forward. Her right hand clutched her side, as her left braced on the banister. “W-wait a minute!”

_I knew it. The truth always comes out!_ Athena stole a glance to see how Simon reacted to her new accusation.

Simon straightened up, tall coat flowing behind him. “...Hmmm. Cykes-dono. You are claiming Miss Graves swapped the gun for the documents?”

I - I _am? I guess I am!_ “Yes.”

The Judge turned his head towards the prosecution. “M-Mr. Blackquill! Are you - accepting the defense's assertion?”

“Y- Yeah! What gives!?” Priscilla snatched the security cap off her head with her left hand and scrunched it into a fist.

Simon smirked. “Merely entertaining the idea, your baldness. The defense deserves their last gasp. Cykes-dono, if your assertion is correct, then you imply Miss Graves knew this would become a crime scene, do you not?’

Athena scratched her head. “I-I don’t follow.”

Simon glared. Athena imagined flames flaring out his nostrils. _Yipes._ “Cykes-dono. Imagine the scenario from Olgist’s perspective. He is alone in the museum and hears a window smash. He knows security is disabled for the day. What is his first instinct?”

Watson answered. “He shared an office with Carver, so... run for the Barretta.”

Simon nodded. “Indeed. And in doing so, he would find the very documents stolen from his domicile in their place. And immediately, Doctor Olgist has two crucial pieces of information - first, he sees the evidence of his guilt, and second, is aware the person who put them there is in possession of a firearm.”

Athena jumped in. “O-of course! That’s what the defense is asserting! It was a threat! Priscilla already had the gun. She waited until he tried to make his escape and killed him!”

Priscilla fumed. Her right hand continued scrunching her hat. “I - this is - Arrrgh!” She took a moment, composed herself, and placed the crumpled security cap back on her head. “All right. All right! You caught me.”

The Judge shot up in surprise. “My goodness! Miss Graves - or miss Dane - are you confessing to the murder of-?”

“No!” shouted Priscilla. “That’s not what I meant at all! What I mean is, they're both right. I did place those journals, but I didn’t take the gun!”

“Wh-what!?” Athena extended her hand, motioning to the witness stand. “T-that’s ridiculous! You can’t possibly be saying you replaced the documents and just _left_ the gun. You confessed earlier you assumed a false identity because you were afraid for your life! There's no way you'd leave such a lethal means of defense for him!”

Priscilla stood up, more confident than before. “Oh? Why not? It's not like he was there. You assumed it happened the night of, but _I_  placed the documents the night before.”

Athena felt her heart sink. _Wait! Non! My beautiful contradiction!_

She continued. “I replaced the documents, but I left the gun on Carver’s desk. I figured when he found it, he’d check the secret compartment, find all our original submissions, and expose all of Olgist’s wrongdoings.” She brushed her hands together as if dusting them off. For a brief second, it almost looked like she winced in pain. "No murder necessary. See?"

“You-you’re kidding!” Athena felt herself wobble in place, stupified by Priscilla's perseverance. “There’s no way you’d risk Carver covering everything up again after so much work.”

Priscilla shook her head. “Carver’s a good man, I trusted him to do the right thing! And what danger? He had a gun right there, I even left it for him! I don’t know what happened later, but I had nothing to do with it.”

The room went quiet. Athena studied Priscilla, looking for any sign of weakness, any of the tells Apollo so often spotted, but she saw none. She’d rattled Priscilla’s cage many times today, but now she’d shrugged off all those outbursts. Aside from the way her right hand stayed gripped to her side as if clutching a wound, she otherwise appeared cool and collected. _She’s not giving up, but neither am I! I just need to think of a way to discredit her testimony._

Athena pounded the defense bench and leaned forward. “Simon. The Prosecution has access to the Meadow’s I.D. usage history, right? The Defense requests all activity from March first immediately!”

Edgeworth handed Simon a page, which he held between his thumb and forefinger.

Athena waited for him to say something. Every second he held the page without speaking she felt an eternity pass by. _Rapido, Simon! Say something!_

Simon clicked his tongue twice. _Tsk, tsk._ “Cykes-dono. It would seem your blade needs sharpening. Miss Graves' I.D. opened the front door at midnight on March first, and exited via the service elevator.”

_Wh-what!? She actually did enter the building the night before? Could I actually be wrong here? Or did she intentionally enter and leave the night before just to support a false alibi?_

John covered his eyes. “I - I can’t believe this is happening. We’ve put away enemies of the state, caught serial killer's, uncovered secret government labs, and we’re about to be outplayed by a security guard with a toy gun.”

Sherlock’s eyes glanced towards the bench. “John please, calm yourself. We are not finished yet.”

The Judge shook his head. “Miss Cykes. I made myself clear. This was your final chance. I see no further room for deliberation in this matter. It has been a long road today, but I believe we have uncovered the full truth of what occurred the night of March second. Has the accused anything to say before I pass judgement?”

_Arrrgh! What else is left? I need to convince The Judge there’s more to uncover, but - but I don’t have any evidence left to present!_

Sherlock stood up. “Final words, your honor? What I have to say is you cannot possibly end the trial here. Not when there’s still a piece of evidence left undiscussed. Why, it would reflect quite poorly on you as an arbiter of the law were you to conclude a trial before Miss Skye’s forensics team recovered the murder weapon.”

Athena waited for Simon to declare an end to the case. Instead, his eyes closed. He seemed lost in thought, a million miles away, all while The Judge was about to call the case in his favor.

Wright stepped in. “H-he’s right, Your Honor! We uh, we need to wait for the gun! It could change our entire understanding of the case.”

The Judge shook his head. “At this point, I hardly think the murder weapon will raise any questions at all. The defense has failed to substantiate their accusation against Priscilla Graves, and without another suspect- “

“Your Baldness.” Simon interrupted. “There’s a matter related to the firearm the prosecution would not leave undiscussed.”

_Wh-what’s he doing? He’s... helping us?_

“Mr. Blackquill?”

“There’s a mystery we’ve yet to uncover. you see. Our ghost bullet. Surely the defense knows to what I refer?”

_O-Oh! Of course. We never did figure it out!_  “The bullet recovered from the elevator! Yes! The - the defense is prepared to offer an explanation!”

All eyes turned to Athena, even her two co-counsels.

Wright’s head hung sideways, jaw slack, shoulders slumped. Not an ounce of confidence detected in his body language “Uh, we are?”

Watson, meanwhile, just seemed lost, as if everything that happened in the last minute escaped his notice until now. “I’m - I’m sorry, what?”

‘Cykes-dono.” Simon crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I needn’t explain how crucial your next strike must be. Bluff, and I will strike you down myself.”

“Oh - okay.”

The Judge nodded. “Well, if the prosecution is unsatisfied, then... then I suppose, Miss Cykes, the court would like to hear how this bullet ended up in a closed elevator.”

Athena let the world fall away. John and Wright began to discuss possible answers between themselves, but she let their chatter fade out. If she needed their opinion, she’d ask later. _Eliminate the impossible, Athena. Everyone keeps saying the bullet travelled through walls, but that’s not possible, right? So the bullet had to enter at some point when the doors were open. So how could I know when-_

Athena knew the answer to her inner question. She clicked widget and pulled up the I.D. Card record.

7:16 PM - Main Door - A. Olgist  
7:23 PM - Director’s Office - A. Olgist  
7:54 PM - Service Elevator, First Floor - A. Olgist  
8:23 PM - Service Elevator, Parking Garage - A. Olgist  
9:45 PM - Security Room - A. Olgist  
9:53 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist  
10:10 PM - Service Elevator, Parking Garage - A. Olgist  
10:19 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist  
10:21 PM - Service Elevator, Second Floor - A. Olgist

_Okay. Okay! So the bullet had to enter the room during one of the times the second floor elevator door opened._

“Athena?” Asked John. “What uh, what are you -”

Athena held up her finger in a silencing motion. “ _Callate_ , Watson!” _The second question we need to answer - when was the bullet fired? There are three on the scene. One in the pottery exhibit signage, one in the elevator, and another inside Archie. We know Archie died earlier now, so the only other time shots were exchanged was..._

“Watson!” Athena shouted. “You said the shootout was at 10:19, right?”

“Um, why - yes, of course. A shame my aim - “

“Okayenoughthankyou.” Athena went back to thinking. _So, shots were exchanged at 10:19. The elevator door was open. So Priscilla Graves intended to fire the shot, convince Watson he was witnessing the moment of the murder, and then escape into the elevator. She was aiming downstairs, so it doesn’t seem likely the bullet in the elevator belongs to Carter’s gun, right?_

_If that's the case, it has to be Watson’s bullet! But Watson didn’t have a clear line of sight on the elevator. And it's not like he'd fire at nothing, right? So how does a bullet end up where you aren’t aiming?_

Athena stopped dead. She felt her breath and heart stop as every mystery fell into place. In an instant, she knew exactly what happened that night. Why Priscilla had to open the door a second time. Why no one could find the gun. Why it became crucial to hide the gun in the first place.

Athena slammed her open hands on the table. All attention in the room flew to her. “This locked room mystery isn’t a mystery at all! I know _exactly_ how this bullet ended up in the elevator.”

Priscilla’s face turned white. “You - you do?”

Athena nodded. “Watson, every shot you heard that night was from your own gun.”

Watson blinked. “You - you can’t be serious.”

“It’s the only way everything fits together. Priscilla, you never intended to hurt Holmes or Watson. You merely needed them to believe they were witnessing the moment of the murder. The plan was to aim and fire at nothing, then run. But the, something happened you didn’t account for.”

Athena flipped to her file on the elevator door, bringing up a photo of the bullet. “When John Watson’s training kicked in, he outdrew you. Believing his life to be in danger, he took what, in better lighting conditions, I’m sure would’ve been deadly aim. He fired two shots before you could even pull the trigger. One of those bullets whizzed right by your head and into the sign of the pottery exhibit.”

Simon leaned forward. “Then the second - “

Athena nodded towards the picture. “ _Exactamente!_ The second bullet Skye’s team recovered from this elevator.”

Simon shook his head. “What you say is still impossible. Forensics has tried to recreate the shot from the bottom floor. There’s simply no way to hit the elevator door from there.”

“Oh?” Athena crossed her arms and smirked. “Well, that’s because they didn’t take into account what a crack shot John is! See, our client testified all he could see was a metallic glint, so he fired at the one thing he could draw a bead on! His gun never aimed towards the elevator. The bullet ended up there because it struck Priscilla’s gun first!”

Simon clenched at his chest as he recoiled. “O-of course! A ricochet! Why did I not - ?“

Athena brought up a paint app to manipulate the photo and illustrate her point. She drew a red line on the holo-screen to indicate her proposed misdirect. “John’s shot struck the side of her gun, then redirected into the elevator where it slammed against the wall.”

“Huh.” Said John. “I - I suppose I wasn’t as off my game after all.”

Sherlock remained motionless in all this. Athena seriously began to worry about him. She'd read on John's blog about how too much sensory data at once could overwhelm his observations.  _Is all this too much for him, I wonder?_

Simon snapped his fingers. “C-cykes-Dono. This is - an impressive turnabout, but I must ask a basic question. Just what does this change?”

“Y-yeah!” Priscilla added. “So the shooter’s gun got struck, so what?”

_So what indeed. Now for the actual big reveal. Hold on to your coat, Simon, because I'm about to blow it off!_ “So, the shooter now had a gun which would reveal exactly what happened at the scene. There would be little mystery as to who-shot-who, and she couldn’t well put the gun back in Carver’s desk; Carver would notice the damage immediately the next morning, know his firearm was involved in the shootout, and report it. If anyone was going to believe John Watson was Olgist’s real killer, a second firearm struck by a bullet at the scene would raise serious questions about what happened that night. The shooter had two choices - bring the firearm with her, or hide it. Judging from the I.D. activity, I believe we can deduce which option she took.”

Simon smirked. “Hah. So that’s why the elevator doors opened again two minutes later.”

“Oui!” Athena pulled up the I.D. card activity again, closing the elevator photo.  _10:19 and 10:21, huh?_ “So Priscilla, you only had two minutes to hide this incriminating firearm. And there’s only one place you could reach in two minutes.”

Athena closed her Holo-Screen and pointed a finger at Simon. “Simon, Edgeworth. Call Ema Skye and tell her to check inside some Ancient Neolithic Pottery!”

 

* * *

 

“ _Ema Skye, reporting in!_ ” The Bailiff had rolled in a video screen at the prosecution’s request. Ema stood inside the pottery exhibit, pink glasses propped up on her forehead.

Simon leaned forward. “Skye-dono. Have you done as the defense asked?”

“ _We have_.” Ema tilted her video camera towards a black ceramic pot with a decorative lid. Two intertwined Chinese dragons formed the lid handle. “ _Ladies and gentlemen of the courtroom, take a look._ ”

Ema centered the camera over the lid as she pulled it up.

At first, there was only darkness. As her camera adapted to the new lighting conditions, the contents of the pot came into view.

A gun. The barrel was frayed and cracked, a silver streak running down the side. The slide itself was barely attached anymore, smashed open near the front where a bullet had impacted and ricocheted.

“Ha.” Simon scoffed. “Hidden in plain sight, just as Cykes-dono predicted.”

_Finally. We’ve done it! There’s no getting out of this!_ “Priscilla - or should I say, Veronica? It’s time to come clean. Confess the truth!” Athena thrust out her hand.

Priscilla winced. “I - I...” She clutched herself and doubled over. Her left hand gripped the banister. “I didn’t - I mean I-”

The Judge awaited his explanation. “Miss Graves. Explain yourself!”

“Ha!’ Priscilla shot up, seemingly faster than she intended. She winced and stumbled. Her right hand remained tucked away into her coat pocket. “W-what a sham! So Safety Jacket was right about how the killer hid the gun, so what? I still don’t know anything about it!”

The Judge’s eyebrows went wide. “R-Really? You mean to say - “

“What I mean to say is I didn’t hold that gun!” Priscilla grabbed the plastic gun from her holster and began to spin it around her left pointer finger. This spin was full of vigor and power, twirling like a top. “You found the gun, so what? You can’t prove I held it.”

_Santo Cielo, she can’t be serious!_ Athena slammed her bench with an open palm twice. “Priscilla! I mean, Veronica! Whoever! Give it up! It’s over.”

She clutched her hands into fists and winced again. _What’s going on with her?_ Priscilla leaned forward over the stand, eyes full of fury. “Nothing’s over at all! I refuse to do time for a slimeball like Olgist! Unless you can tie me to the gun, you’ve got _nothing_.”

_Ugh, I can't believe it! She's right!_

Simon turned his attention to the video screen. “Constable Skye. Has your team dusted this new firearm for prints?”

“ _Constable_?” Ema’s head turned to speak to someone off-screen. “ _Did he seriously just call me Constable_?”

Simon pounded his desk with a clenched fist. “Skye.”

“ _Yipe! Y-yes, we did. Nothing at all. Wiped clean._ ”

Athena studied Priscilla’s outfit, noting her covered hands. _Priscilla’s work outfit includes gloves. If she wore them that night, she wouldn’t have left any prints._

Athena turned to her left to get advice from Mr. Wright, only to see a worried grimace on his face, sweat forming on his cheeks. _Okay, so you’re no help._

Athena turned to her right to find Watson in a similar disillusioned pose. His head hung down, arms bracing the witness stand. His eyes were clenched, thinking hard. _Ugh, you too Doctor Watson?_

Athena felt her own confidence shutter after witnessing her co-counsel's defeated postures. _N-no way. There’s no way! I’ve figured everything out, but she still has some escape route prepared? After all that happened, she really left no physical evidence? What do I-_

“Oh, _finally_.” exclaimed Sherlock. He stepped down from the witness stand. “Miss Cykes, I believe the defense has evidence to present.”

All three members of the defense glanced at one another. Athena to Wright. Athena to John. John to Wright. Each of them looked to each other for answers and found none. When the parade of confused glances ended, Athena turned her attention back to her client. “We - we do?”

“We do, but...” Sherlock glided across the courtroom, his coat billowing from the momentum. “.. I will need something else first, something - ah. John, your mobile has been returned yes?”

“Ah, yes.” John said. He cleared his throat once. “Um, and I suppose - “

“Hand it over please.”

John did as requested. Once Sherlock had the mobile in hand, he flipped it in the air once and caught it between his thumb and pointer finger. “Excellent. Now, Miss Graves.”

Priscilla crossed her arms. “Yeah, tall dark and handsome? Whaddya want?”

Sherlock said nothing at first. He approached, phone loosely clutched in his right hand, and came to rest near the witness stand. “During the trial today, you’ve shown a… a propensity for gun spinning. I wonder if perhaps you could demonstrate a more complicated trick?”

Priscilla smiled, which considering the direction this trial had been heading, was an unusual sight. “O-of course. I’m just glad someone noticed.” She drew her plastic pistol and began spinning it about in her left hand. “This might surprise you, but spinning a gun forward is actually harder than flipping-”

“Thank youuu,” Sherlock said in a sing-songy tone. With that, he tossed John’s phone, underhanded, in Priscilla’s direction.

It arced directly towards her face.

With her left hand occupied, she instinctively raised her right hand to catch the incoming object. She reached up, caught John’s phone - and screamed in pain.

Priscilla buckled over with a twisted face. She dropped both her plastic pistol and John’s cell phone to the floor. They clattered and came to rest in front of the witnesses stand. Her left hand gripped her right wrist as she took sharp intakes of breath, desperately trying to calm herself.

“And _viola_ ’,” Sherlock exclaimed. “If The Court will recall, yesterday we discussed the prosecution's inane theory John held his arm straight up and angled his wrist down.” Sherlock mimicked the action himself. “We also discussed how such an action would place undue stress on his wrist with the subsequent recoil, resulting in a sprain or injury.”

Sherlock whipped around towards the gallery. “Now, how many newtons of force do you suppose a bullet striking a held firearm might produce? What damage do you suppose that might do to a wrist?” With a sweeping arm, he motioned to Priscilla, now curled on the floor clutching her arm. When she glanced up at Sherlock, her eyes looked defeated.

Sherlock paced in a circle around the room, seemingly talking to himself more than anyone present. “You were clever, miss Graves, very clever. Your cavalier attitude towards trigger discipline with a practice gun suggested you would never handle a firearm properly enough to maintain your grip, an aloof attitude projected for Doctor Watson who, had he noticed your injured hand, may have arrived at the same conclusion.

Sherlock's pacing became more erratic, his momentum building. "But you’re far more skilled with a firearm than you let on, Miss Graves, far more. Someone less skilled would’ve lost control, the gun would fly from their hand, but you? You held _steady_. Kept a firm grip. And when the bullet struck, it channeled tremendous kinetic energy directly into your arm. Enough I’ve no doubt you required medical attention, but to do so would give the game away, would it not? ‘Hello doctor, my hand has injuries consistent with kinetic trauma the same night a famous archeologist turns up dead in my museum, oh and by the way, my boss’s gun has gone missing.’ No, I think not. Your plan was to wait until after the trial, _then_ see a doctor, perhaps make up an alibi for a workplace accident.”

Sherlock ended his circuitous route and returned to the Witness stand. He leaned in, close to Priscilla. She recoiled back, still clutching her wrist. “You’ve tried hard, _considerably_ hard, to keep your right hand still during this trial to hide the pain. But, _but_. Several time, when Miss Cykes inched closer to the truth, you could not resist. Your muscles tensed. You flinched. Now I have only two more questions for you, Miss Graves.”

“Yeah,” she said through winces. “And what’re those?”

“If you remove the glove on your right hand, what will we see?”

“Ha,” she scoffed. "No thanks. What's the second question?"

“Which one of us is going to take that glove off, hmm?”

Sherlock backed away, giving her space to make the choice herself. The only sound in the courthouse was Sherlock’s steps, as everyone else leaned forward and waited.

Priscilla stood. Her legs buckled twice as she rose. She released her injured wrist to brace herself on the banister.

Her left hand gripped the top of her glove. A single tug caused her to shudder in pain. “Ah!” She slowed down. She pulled in slow, steady tugs, taking in breaths through her teeth when the pain became too intense.

The glove came off.

Her right hand seemed to be twice the size of the glove. It was red, swollen, almost pulsing. The area between her thumb and pointer finger was a dark purple. The discoloration ran from her thumb all the way up into her wrist and disappeared beneath her jumpsuit sleeve.

It didn’t take a doctor to also see her right pointer-finger was broken.

“As I thought,” said Sherlock. “Your finger was already on the trigger. As the force of the bullet pushed the gun, your finger became caught between the trigger and trigger guard and - “

“Enough,” Priscilla said. Her head raised, revealing her face once more. Her eyes were red and swollen now. A faint smile lingered on her face. “That’s enough from you. It’s funny, I thought if I was found out, I’d be devastated, but instead, I feel... relieved.”

She inhaled deep and exhaled slowly. “When Olgist first made his offer, I knew before he even finished his pitch I’d leave the program. It wasn’t even a question. What was the point of everything I’d paid and worked for if I had no right to claim it? And if that’s all it was - just another unfortunate relationship in the troubled life of Veronica Dane - then I would’ve been fine.”

Athena leaned forward. “But that wasn’t it, was it? Not when you found out someone you loved made the same deal.”

Priscilla gave a faint chuckle. Her eyes rose, but her attention was not on any lawyer or judge. Instead, she gazed out into the gallery, to the back of the courtroom, where Dana stood watching. “When I found out what you let him get away with it, Dana... I was so mad. I was furious with you for selling yourself short. Furious with him for abusing his power. And most of all, furious with myself for not being able to stop him.”

Dana stepped down the hall of the gallery, stopping at the threshold to the courtroom. “Vee, I never - “

Priscilla held up her good hand. “I don’t blame you. I did, but not anymore. I wasted many years on useless tears. Until one day I told myself I could put my efforts towards saving the next batch of hapless students. Only I couldn’t figure out a way to get close to him, not without getting caught.”

Athena nodded. “And that’s when you became Priscilla.”

“Yes. I knew if I got a job at the Meadow, I could keep an eye on him. From there, it was just a matter of devising a plan, collecting evidence. Warning others.” Priscilla whisked the cap off her head. “When I heard you’d discovered Sue - not _Olgist_  , but you, Dana - I was so proud. I knew then you’d made a name for yourself. You must've stood up to him. Tore off the leech.”

Priscilla dropped her hat to the ground and cradled her broken hand close to her body. “I always knew Olgist was a monster, but I never thought he was a killer. What he did to Chelsea and Milo - after that, I knew I’d made a mistake. I placed my whole class in grave danger.”

Simon crossed his arms. “Dane. Did Cykes-dono speak true? Did you know Olgist planned to implicate Dana next?”

Priscilla’s head hung to the side. “I did. There’s another piece of evidence, one I disposed of first, before Sherlock arrived.”

“And what’s that?” asked Edgeworth.

“A keylogger I installed on Olgist's phone. I monitored all his text activity, hoping for something I could use. I’d already planned on breaking in to leave a present for Carver, but when I saw his text activity I -“

Priscilla crumpled in pain again. He left hand kept her from falling over completely. “...That’s when I decided to end things for good. Before he could try and put Dana away for _his_ crimes.”

Priscilla turned her attention towards the defense’s bench. Her gaze moved between everyone. “John, Sherlock. I’m so sorry. If only I knew how good you really were, if I trusted you to catch him on your own, to not be bought in by his lies... none of us would’ve ended up here.”

She exhaled again, releasing tons of stored up tension into the air around her. “Your honor. I’m ready for my sentence. I killed Archie Olgist.”

 

* * *

 

The Judge shook his head solemnly. “What a sad, sad tale we’ve uncovered today. A teacher who killed his own students, and was killed by one in turn. To think our victim’s plans went unchallenged for so long.”

Athena exhaled in relief. _Finally! I started to think this case would never end._

Wright smiled. “Nice work, Athena.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said. “Without Sherlock, we’d never have tied Priscilla to the gun. I was clueless over here.”

John smirked. “He knew the whole time, you know. He was waiting, desperately, for you to get there so he could have his-his show-off Parlor moment. His summation gathering.”

The Judge continued. “Prosecution, what news do you have of the accused?”

Simon stood, straight-faced. “Miss Graves is currently being arraigned and processed, Your Honor. She has confessed to everything.”

The Judge nodded. “Very well. A trial for her sentence will be set at a later date. In the meantime, it is with great pleasure I can tell my granddaughter her favorite detective and blogger are not, in fact, murderers.”

John stammered. “Ah, um - Your Honor, I’m a Doctor too, you know.”

“Perhaps. Ms. Cykes?”

Athena jumped, not expecting to be addressed before the sentence. “Y-yes?”

“Once again, I witness a case entirely upended. I have not yet decided if it's good or bad you seem to be inheriting Wright’s ability to challenge every a priori notion in a case, but today it served us well. Excellent work, to both counsels.”

Athena and Simon nodded to show their appreciation.

“Now, as to the matter of our current case. This courtroom finds the defendant, Sherlock Holmes, **NOT. GUILTY.** ”

The Judge pounded his gavel in a final, defiant thump. The courtroom erupted in cheers and applause. Sherlock himself took a bow, seemingly overcome by the outpouring of adoration.

John observed Sherlock’s bow, smiled, and said “what'd I say? bloody show-off.”

During the celebration, Athena clenched her hand into a fist and pointed it in Wright’s direction.

He noticed, smirked, and returned the fist-bump.

One more win in the books for the Wright Anything Agency.


	20. Post-Trial, Day 2 - Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial is over. Sherlock and John are free men. Everyone breathes easy - especially Sherlock, who's found his time in court more than enjoyable than expected.

#### DISTRICT COURTROOM NO. 2

#### LOBBY

#### MARCH 4TH, 6:55 PM

Lights flashed and cameras snapped as they exited the courtroom. Wright watched as Athena smiled and wave. He felt a tremendous sense of pride as she entertained the crowd. _She’d earned it._

He’d been keeping up during the trial of course, and even knew the answers occasionally.

Sometimes.

At least once.

John Watson got in close to be heard over the clamor. “I can’t thank you and your associate enough. Seriously. I - I’m almost in disbelief at how you both managed him.”

“We’ve had our share of... offbeat clients,” Wright said, pausing to choose his words carefully. Sherlock himself was enjoying the attention, Wright could tell, but with more reservation.

He too, soon moved closer to the group, beaming. “John. _John_. That was exhilarating. The most fun I’ve had in a courtroom in - in -” An appropriate measure of time seemed to escape him.

“I thought you said their legal system was rubbish.”

“Oh, it is. _Absolute_ rubbish. Instead of following the evidence, whoever makes the best argument around the evidence wins. Complete rubbish, but rubbish I could win every time. _Every_  - JOHN.”

Watson seemed to know where this was headed. He became worried, almost apprehensive. “No. No, you are _not_ getting a law degree, Sherlock.”

“I _must_. What a rush! What a thrill! Wright, what must I do to practice law in your appallingly sophistic country?”

Wright placed a thumb on his chin as he thought back to his own schooling. “Well, you’ll need to pass the Bar exam, but -”

“Standardized testing? Simple. Child’s play. What’s next?”

John covered his eyes with his hands. “Oh, gods...”

Wright continued. “...but you’ll also need to pass the LSAT, and attend school for four years to get your J.D.”

“Oh please.” Sherlock smiled. “I can graduate in two. _NO_. one!”

“Please make it stop,” John said to no one in particular.

“...And you’ll also need a green card.” Wright finished, realizing he’d probably buried the lede.

Sure enough, the smile and excitement drained from Sherlock’s face. “I have to take up permanent residence. Here. In the States?”

“Um, to practice U.S. law? Yes.”

Sherlock nodded. “No thank you then. John, you were right.”

John opened his hand in the air, fingers extended. “You could always become a barrister in England.”

“No, no, no. Our legal system lacks the same impropriety, the same... chaos. We’ll just have to expand our clientele’ to the states, thereby increasing our chances we end up in a courtroom here again.”

John said nothing. He just rubbed the bridge of his nose with two hands.

Athena, content with her time in front of the cameras, bounced across the room to join the group. “Congratulations, Mr. Holmes! And you too, Dr. Watson.” She flashed a victory sign in the air. “You’re finally free to get back to detecting.”

“Indeed.” Said Sherlock. He then leaned closer to John and added. “I got the better defense attorney, you know.”

John sighed. “Too loud, Sherlock. Too loud.”

Sherlock’s eyes drifted from Athena to Wright. If he felt bad about any potential insults, he didn’t show it.

He straightened up and extended his hand, which Wright gladly took. “Glad we could see to your freedom, Sherlock. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you don’t need our services again any time soon.”

“No offense taken,” said Sherlock as they shook hands. “Mr. Wright, Ms. Cykes, your defense was... exceptionally adequate.”

Sherlock turned to shake Athena’s hand next, while John took Wright’s. “That’s - quite a compliment, coming from him. Trust me.”

Wright smiled as they shook hands quickly. “Somehow, Watson, I think I deduced that. Maybe I’m learning to speak Sherlockian.”

“Well,” John added as their hands parted, “it takes one day to learn, but a lifetime to master. Trust me.”

“Oh John,” Sherlock said as he wrapped an arm around his compatriot. “Let's leave this dreadful country and return home.”

“Oh yes.” John said, “I have some work ahead of me on the blog for this one.”

The two of them walked out the doors of the courthouse, passing through a throng of reporters. John and Sherlock moved through the crowd, unconcerned with the cameras and questions. They looked exhausted, yet beamed with happiness. _Huh,_ _they really look in their element amid chaos._

The crowd of reporters closed in them, and the doors closed behind the throng.

The sound of Miles voice drew Wright’s attention. He’d been in the waiting room all along, but until now he had his own crowd to deal with.

“All right, what’s the hold-u-” Edgeworth said, but his voice faded away before finishing.

Wright and Athena turned to see Priscilla Graves being escorted by two bailiffs, but they were currently stopped in their tracks by Dana Stapes, who’d cut them off. Edgeworth paused a short distance away. The bailiffs looked to him for an answer, but Edgeworth held up his hand as if to say _stand down._

_Good on you, Miles._

Priscilla’s eyes avoided contact with anyone in the room. “Dana, I-”

Dana lunged forward and kissed her.

Priscilla wasn’t the only one surprised. Athena audibly gasped as it occurred, while Edgeworth looked away as if embarrassed by the sight.

“You saved my life,” said Dana. “It... doesn’t excuse what you did, but lemme tell ya, it makes it easy to forgive.”

“Dana…” Priscilla said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Most archeologists wait their whole lives for a break like this, and now, after all this, I -”

Dana laughed.

Priscilla couldn’t hide her anger. “Why are you laughing?”

“I’m - I’m sorry! I am. I don’t mean to, it’s just - you think after all this, I care about Sue?”

Priscilla’s eyes squinted into an accusatory, piercing glare.

“Okay, okay! You're right! I do,” Dana said. “But I care about you too. Priscilla, thanks to you, Wright, Sherlock, everyone - the truth is finally out.” Dana took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. “I accepted years ago Olgist stole my past. The only way forward was to build a new future, get out from under his thumb... and I finally did it.”

Priscilla smiled. “Of course you did.”

“Now I get it all back. Everything.” Dana sniffed. “I know my name will be dragged through the mud - all of ours will. But it’ll all finally be _mine,_ mess and all. The lie is over.” She kissed Priscilla’s cheek.

“You know,” Dana continued, “I’d always hoped he’d come around on his own. I couldn't deny his talent, but he let ambition consume everything. What a scientist Olgist could’ve been if he’d ever found a shred of morality, but If he was willing to kill Milo and Chelsea... I guess he never intended to keep his word.”

Athena suddenly jumped up and crossed the room. “ _Aspettare, aspettare!_ ” She said.

Wright found himself caught unaware by his employee’s sudden outburst. He followed along anyway.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Athena said. "See, I've been thinkin' about this, and... well, something's felt off until just now!"

“Oh?” Priscilla scoffed. “And just what do you- ow!” The bailiff had readjusted his grip on her arm lower and had apparently gripped her wound. “Careful.” The bailiff nodded in her direction, which was apparently an apology. “So whaddya talkin' about, safety jacket?”

“This,” Athena said as she tapped widget. Her digital screen popped up and she scrolled to a digitized version of the original documents her and Dr. Watson had uncovered. The originals had since been taken as evidence.

“Okay yeah, the journals I stole,” Priscilla said, her eyes glancing sideways. “What of ‘em?”

“Well... don’t you think it’s odd he kept them?” Athena said.

Wright and Edgeworth shared a glance, realizing they hadn’t considered the question. _We’re losing some tact in our age here._

Athena continued. “I mean, if he never intended to reveal the truth, he would’ve just burned them, right? Thrown them in the trash? Instead, he held on to them all these years. Maybe deep down, he knew what he’d done was wrong, and left himself a way to come clean in the future.”

Priscilla nodded. “But when I stole them-”

“You forced his hand. Olgist was tested then - was he prepared to let the truth come out, or try to cover up his cover-up?”

“Well,” Said Dana, “he failed that test.”

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Wright concurred.

“It doesn’t really matter,” Priscilla said. “In a way, he wins in the end. Despite all my efforts, he’s still about to steal from me. Only now it’s years off my life. Even more than he’s already taken.”

“About that,” Wright said. He fished around his pocket for a business car, and held it up. “If you need repres-”

Edgeworth flew across the room and slapped the business card from Wright’s hand. “ _No, Wright!_  No no! Not everyone in the world is magically innocent! This ends with another absurd case where you claim the fossil did it, and next thing I know I’m cross-examining some prelapsarian _ghost_ in a vain and ultimately worthless effort to pretend this world has any modicum of logic still left. I won’t. _Have it_!”

Wright felt himself blink an unnatural amount of times. “Miles, I - I was just going to offer to negotiate her guilty plea.”

“Oh,” Said Edgeworth. His posture relaxed as his arms folded across one another. “Carry on then.”

Wright bent down, picked up the card, and realizing Priscilla had no free hands, slipped it into her jumpsuit's pocket.

“Is it uh, customary to offer representation to the people your agency puts away, Wright?” Priscilla said as she stared down at his hands.

Wright shook his head. “No, not really. But given the circumstances, the Wright anything agency is ready to help negotiate your guilty plea.”

Priscilla smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

The guards moved, hauling Priscilla towards the door.

“I’ll wait for you!” Shouted Dana.

Priscilla looked back, smiling as they crossed the threshold. “I know.”


	21. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wright settles back into normalcy after all the excitement and receives a letter from an old friend.

#### WRIGHT ANYTHING AGENCY

#### MARCH 7TH, 10:51 AM

Wright sat at his office desk. The right-hand drawer sat open, Equi sound asleep, her feet occasionally twitching from rabbit dreams. Wright moved the contents of the drawer to other areas around the office; he’d given up the fight. It was Equi’s drawer now, and that’s just how it was going to be.

Wright had a letter in his hands in a pink envelope. Around the border were small printed decals of prayer flags - green, red, yellow. The stamp was international postage. Khura’in village.

Athena burst into the room, her holo-screen floating inches from her face. “It’s up! It’s up!” she shouted.

Equi burst from the drawer, hopped into Wright’s lap, and used his lap as a stepping stone to lunge higher to a nearby shelf. “Ack!” Wright straightened up. _Welp, that just happened._ “What’s ‘up,’ Athena?”

Athena knelt down next to his desk and let her Holo-Screen do the talking.

 

_THE PEMBROKE POLTERGEIST_   
_John Watson_

_In West Wales lies the small village of Pembroke. Known as the birthplace of King Henry VII, the city is often inundated with tourists hoping to take in the sights of their ancient ancestry. While many visit Pembroke as sightseers, Holmes and I instead arrived, as we often do, on a case. We never expected the first leg of our investigation would begin with us being tossed from the ramparts of Pembroke Castle with malicious intent, stuck among the thick foliage around the castle walls, while a ghastly figure loomed above us, no doubt the very architect of our fall. Nor could we expect our journey would eventually take us across the pond to the Colonies in search of answers._

_Before I elaborate on the details of the case and divulge to all of you how Sherlock - yet again - arrived at the truth, I must make a confession. I believe I am complacent in a certain kind of passive crime, a ‘theft,’ if you will, of credit. Sherlock is a genius, there’s no question, and it seems I appear to be skilled - as much as one can be - at mitigating the damage his genius can cause._

_However, there are often others along the way who go unmentioned, unnoticed. People who help Sherlock arrive at the truth, be it through their incorrect assumptions which somehow flip a switch in his head, trusting us with risky information, or in some cases, their immediate and direct assistance in our safety. Frequent readers will know Mycroft acts as a frequent source for the latter._

_In short, from this point forward, I will strive to better give credit where it is due. And where it is due, in this particular case, is a small law office in the States. It's the Wright Anything Agency, where two skilled and passionate attorney’s work tirelessly for their client's efforts. And, by some miracle, seem to be the only people in the States Sherlock trusted when this case took an unfortunate turn._

_To surmise - you would not be reading a new blog entry, especially not the one I now write from the comfort of our home at Baker Street, were it not for the efforts of Phoenix Wright and Athena Cykes._

 

“...Wow.” Wright said, after a long stunned silence.

“Right!?” Athena could barely contain her excitement. “Now is this some hot promotional material or what?”

Athena continued to read the article, but Wright tuned out - he was there for most of it, after all, so it didn’t make for a terribly interesting read.

Once Athena was done, she clicked off her holo-screen and turned her attention back to Wright. “What were you doing before I came in? Waving a... pink handkerchief?”

“Oh, right,” said Wright. “This.” He held up the envelope, taking care to hold it straight so Athena could read the heading.

Athena read the name and beamed. “A letter from Apollo!? Have you-”

Wright shook his head. “Of course not. I was waiting for you!”

“Well, open it! He might need our help!”

_He’d probably call or email if he needed immediate help, Athena. And if he did send a letter, I’m sure he would’ve used different postage for something important - I hope._

Wright slipped the letter out of its envelope and held it high so Athena could see.

 

_Hi Mr. Wright, Athena. Trucy. I’m uh, not really sure who’s going to open this letter first, you know?_

_Anyway... Sherlock and Watson!? Really?! What the heck happened over there after I left!? I expect one of you to tell me how you landed those clients. Congratulations on another victory - a big one, too._

_I could pretend I’m writing this letter for a reason, I guess. I could say I needed Wright’s advice_ , _or wanted Trucy to teach me a magic trick or two. The truth is I saw your names in the news and missed the agency like mad._

_(As for my side-gig as Trucy’s unwilling magic puppet… jury is still out on those.)_

_Reading about your case got me thinking about everything that’s happened to put me here in Khura’in. When I started at the Wright Anything Agency, I would’ve never been able to handle rebuilding an entire country’s legal system from the ground up. Honestly, I’m not sure anyone can. I’m absolutely swamped in clients since the repeal of the D.C.A._

_Without the guidance and support received from both of you, there’s no way I’d be here today. So when I read about what Olgist did to his students, well… I guess it struck a nerve. Even Sahdmadhi seemed shaken by the court transcript, but it's hard to tell with him sometimes._

_Sounds like you’re both doing fine over there. I hope to hear from you soon. And if your case work slows down, you’re welcome to make a business trip to try a few cases in Khura’in. Say hi to Trucy for me!_

_Apollo “Polly” Justice._

_P.S. - I’m not joking._

_Send help._

_Please._

 

“Sounds like Apollo is doing _FINE_ ,” said Wright, raising his volume to mimic his chords of steel.

Athena giggled quietly. “Yeah. It sure is quiet around here without him. Hey! Trucy’s at rehearsal today. She was pretty bummed she didn’t get to say goodbye to John and Sherlock. I bet this letter would cheer her up, I’ll go run it over!” Athena snatched the letter from Wright’s hands.

“You sure?” Said Wright. “She might need an ‘assistant,’ you know.”

Athena paused, the letter still hanging in the air between her fingers. “...On second thought, I’ll just slip it under the dressing room door. See ya, boss!”

Athena left with no particular gait in her step and left Wright alone once more with Equi.

His thoughts turned to when he was Athena and Apollo’s age, and the people who were there for him. The long history of everyone who shaped him, challenged him. But there was no question who started Wright on this path in the first place.

_Come to think of it..._

Wright stood up and grabbed the green grape juice bottle (which had since become his watering can) from the top of a shelf, taking care not to disturb Equi. It was around half full.

_Good enough._

With what was left, he watered Charley. This little plant wasn’t so little anymore. If anything, Charley was poised to take over the entire office within the next decade. But no matter how rowdy of a plant he became, keeping this plant alive was the one promise he kept to Mia all these years.

Wright paused as he returned the bottle to the shelf. It clinked against his attorney’s badge. He pulled it off his lapel and examined it, studying the scuffs and marks from years of practice.

_Okay. Charley’s just the second promise_ , he thought.

_~END~_


End file.
